The Boss of Me
by Tombspike
Summary: Elizabeth resents her boss for his charm offensive, especially when she has no charm whatsoever. It leads to an awkward misunderstanding where he tries to kiss her, and she shoots him down, but her rejection starts a strong friendship which will be tested by a scheming Caroline, a simmering passion and their refusal to admit their love. Modern P&P.
1. To Be Sixteen

Elizabeth was deadly serious about her degree, despite the ridicule she'd gotten over the years. It first started in the dingy office of her career's adviser, back in secondary school, when with fresh-faced optimism at the age of 16, she said she wanted a BA in Business Administration.

She paused, her heart pattering in her chest.

Before it keeled over, an arrow in it's side.

"Are you sure?" asked the career adviser, looking down the list of subjects Elizabeth excelled in. "Have you ever thought about Medicine? Or Engineering?"

Wait. What?

She hadn't asked about medicine or engineering. What she wanted to know was what qualifications she needed to study BA at Bristol. Simple really.

"No," Elizabeth said shortly, refusing to let go of her dream. "Now, look -"

"That's a shame." The pig-headed woman actually had audacity to bite into a cookie, so crumbs sprayed all over Elizabeth's certificates. The ones she'd resisted framing. "You're clearly very bright. With a mind like that you can go far in traditional courses. Not one," she leaned closer, eyes beady behind her spectacles. "Any Tom, Dick or Harry could enter."

"I'm not a Tom, Dick or Harry either," Elizabeth said, annoyed.

"I know, dear. But if you want to be a glorified secretary, then you don't need a degree for that. Just leave school at sixteen. There's plenty of companies looking for fresh blood. You might even have an advantage over those twenty-something year old graduates, who might be educated, but can't hold a candle to the years of experience you would've clocked up."

"Thanks." Elizabeth imagined slamming a heavy folder over the woman's head. "Thanks a whole lot."

Who gave her this job? She was absolutely lousy at it.

Elizabeth sulked over the whole summer, but she emerged, determined and focused more than ever, that there was more to Business Administration than a glorified PA.

She'd show that damn career's adviser.

**.ssss.**

**Six years later**

"Hi," said the girl seated furthest away from her in the semi circle. "My name is Natalie Troya, and this is my first job interview. I'm sixteen." She put up a hand, with a complete set of acrylic nails and gave a fake giggle.

The last two words started repeating over and over in Elizabeth's head.

_I'm sixteen. I'm sixteen._

Jesus. She was at risk of being ousted by someone, by all rights and purposes, still belonged in a cradle. A bit harsh, but Elizabeth wasn't in a forgiving mood. She was surrounded by five people, all women besides the interviewer, who outclassed her in the looks department. To add insult to injury, they all wore flimsy, short sleeved blouses, the buttons straining against their busts and impeccably cut pencil skirts. Their hair was professionally done and although the youngest was sixteen and the oldest twenty-eight…they looked like they were sisters.

Were they?

Elizabeth's eyes skipped from one to another, coincidentally just as the second interviewee spoke. This one accompanied her statement with a finger wave.

"Hiiiii. My name is Michelle Peyton…"

Ah. So they weren't related.

Elizabeth's eyes anxiously fell to her prim and proper hands folded on her lap. The nails were filed short, no-nonsense, just like her. She'd combed a parting into her hair and let it hang loose, the tips brushing the blazer of her trouser suit, which ended with two stocking covered feet in flat shoes pressed tightly together.

Her lower lip wobbled, and she told herself not to cry. How was it fair she was overlooked in favour of the one who flashed the most leg, time and time again? Her CV was enough to get a foot through the door, but when it came to interviews, she lacked the charm and ease that made her sound stilted and one to avoid.

But it was just her nerves playing up. Elizabeth was very witty and level-headed. It's just the longer she spent job hunting, the less confident and distracted she grew.

Much like now.

"And what about you?" This stage - the group interview stage - was being held by a man called Charles Bingley. He was a very good-looking man in his early twenties, with rich brown hair he constantly ran his fingers across, almost like he was self-conscious about how luscious his locks were, and a worn in shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "The quiet one at the end. What's your story?" He smiled at her.

Something inside Elizabeth broke.

She was tired of being called quiet. She was merely reflective. Elizabeth straightened up, trying not to let the hurt show.

Her voice was soft and lilting. It had no bite to it.

"My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I finished my Master's at Bristol Uni eight months ago, with two significant placements at JP Morgan and Legal and General. Throughout my studies and even now, I've supported myself by working as a temp. I'm not sixteen," she finished with a sigh.

"Why do you say that?" Charles looked intrigued.

_Don't say it. Don't say it._

"My career adviser was right." _Oh shit. _"She told me if I wanted to be successful in this field, then I had a better chance if I did what Natalie's doing here. Which is try my luck as a novice. Now, that I'm on the other side, it's like I'm not pretty enough or relaxed enough, and I keep being told to sing my accomplishments but -"

She stopped, realising she'd stepped over the far reaches of professionalism. Who knew, a bunch of short skirts, a girl who was sixteen and Charles Bingley accusing her of being quiet would make her evaluate herself as a person.

"I'm sorry, I should probably go-"

"No!"

Everyone watched in shock as Charles half-rose from the seat himself, as if he planned to head her off. They stared each other down, daring each other to make a move first.

Almost as if he was frightened of making her flee, he looked at the remaining seated occupants of the room and decided to stretch his back.

"Why don't you girls go up to the third floor and fix yourselves a coffee." He paused ominously. "You too, Elizabeth."

She continued pulling on her duffel coat, and swept out her hair from inside the collar. Was she cold or was she planning on going outside?

Just to be sure, Charles added, "Elizabeth, you can't go outside. If you go missing, then I will have no choice but to make a scene. Not exactly the impression you want to make, I'm sure."

"Fine." Her lips tightened. "I'll stick around till the final verdict then."

_Prolong the humiliation even further, why not._

Charles straightened up. "Good. Now can all of you just _go?" _He growled the last part. No sooner, had he uttered his dismissal, he contradicted himself by staring at the ground for a few good, hard seconds and ordered, "Elizabeth? A word?"

She stayed behind.

"Can you help me put away these chairs please?"

Following his lead, she lifted two chairs and brought them to the edge of the room. Charles was already heading back for his second trip, as she lined up the chairs like it mattered a jot.

"Do you approach all interviews like that?" He asked incredulously, from the centre of the room, taking a sip from the water bottle he'd brought with him.

"I know it might be hard to believe - but no." She looked up at the ceiling, her back turned to him. "Listen, I should apologise-"

"No, no, no. Don't go back on your words now. It'll make me think less favourably of you."

Elizabeth winced.

"I'm not normally like that-"

"Aw, don't say that. I was actually thinking you might stand a chance."

A sharp intake of breath. It sounded suspiciously like hers. She turned around reluctantly, and saw Charles was nearly upon her, with the last two remaining chairs.

"Thanks for all your help," he said formally. "Why don't you go join the rest now."

"Third floor, right?" A hand went up to fuss with her hair. She looked up at his face and chanced a smile, to see if he had no ill feelings. For a moment, all she got was a blank stare in return, but then the corners of his lips started to tilt up.

"Yes. Third floor." His hands grabbed her shoulders, and softly revolved her to face the door. "That way."

He pushed her slightly, like he was encouraging a lamb to walk, and when she tottered the next few steps, she felt helplessness and awe.

Had he just…?

Was that…?

_A bonding moment?_

_._

**Please read and review. It's a modern version of PP - and I'm doing a boss/secretary scenario but with my own twists. It's a slow romance, because I'm aiming to build a friendship, then a relationship...and it should be based on mutual respect and trust. I hope you fall in love with Darcy along the way! :)**


	2. Darcy Appears

It was her fault really. When Elizabeth rejoined the other four, she should've stood closer and appeared part of the group. But her hesitation stopped her. After all this time, she was none the wiser on how to approach an intimidating group of people and insert herself amongst the throng. Too many rejections had made her overtly cautious and start to take them personally. Now, Elizabeth didn't bother.

Did that make her a social outcast?

Probably.

She cared too much what other people thought, to voice her imperfections. Several had accused her of being quiet straight to her face. She'd just be chilling, part of a group, listening to their conversation...and it sounded so perfect and fluid as people bounced of each other with their harmonious synergy, more often than not, Elizabeth would forget to contribute. Her voice would break the melodious chain. There would be a pause, a few false starts, and the the music would continue around her.

Why introduce that break?

She didn't like people looking at her. Noticing her. Especially by strangers who called her out on her lack of social presence.

_Charles..._

Her breath caught.

Charles had been the first person in a long while who'd turned her opinion around. He'd accused her of being quiet, just on her looks alone. None of them had spoken to him before the introductory semi-circle. He hadn't turned to Natalie and gone, "Ah, the quiet one. What's your story?" Or to Michelle, Bianca or Neve. But her? What separated her from the rest of them besides her looks and the way she held herself?

What made him say that line to her?

Elizabeth scowled.

Why was she still bothered about it?

She _knew _she was quiet, so what did it matter if other people correctly guessed that as her defining characteristic, the second they met her? She could always cast them off as fools.

They were the type of people who didn't get to know the layers of a person, of which Elizabeth had many. But the initial dislike of Charles she'd felt, had reversed when he'd singled her out. Paid her the most attention.

_What does that mean? _Elizabeth thought profoundly.

That she only liked people who paid attention to her, therefore making her entire existence a walking contradiction?

"Ah. You must be the girls Charles selected."

Too late.

She should've stood closer to the girls when she had the chance. As it was, she wasn't the current target of an easy-going, tall, blond man who'd just stepped through the door of the small kitchen and was leaning back against the work-top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows just like Bingley.

The rest of them were lined up against the adjacent counter, though there was a noticeable gap between Neve and Elizabeth. It was like that gap said everything. It set the perimeter walls for the man to slide his gaze across, but whenever it came dangerously close to the gap, his eyes would blink, and he would focus on one girl in particular.

"I suppose the rascal never said the lucky candidate would be working for me?" He smiled, charming the girls. Elizabeth felt stone cold, taking him more seriously. His skin was creased around his eyes and his lips were quick to smile. But she wondered if it was an act. There was something about him that rang false.

He was too smooth and glib, life easy on him. How many times had he had his heart broken? Whether professionally, romantically or in another capacity? Maybe he never gave away his heart, just like her, but instead of sympathy, Elizabeth began to feel the deep roots of envy.

They could've been the same, except he had one ability she did not - to make people hang onto his every word.

She stared freely - perhaps giving the imaginary walls too much credit, because the next instant, the man's clear blue eyes skipped over and caught hers, like it was a trap all along.

Before she could turn away, his lips were moving.

" - any sports?"

She caught the tail end. "Huh?"

He repeated the question slower, trying to figure if she was slow or stupid. Both usually came hand in hand.

"Do you do any sports? How do you keep fit?"

"I-"

"Why do you ask?" asked Michelle. Even worse, flirtatiously. Elizabeth, as a rule, never flirted with men. She didn't know how.

The man let a deep chuckle rumble in his throat. He was back to appreciatively checking out the other four girls, his eyes noticeably skimming the length of Michelle's body, lingering at the places which showed skin, like the hollow of her throat and her bare legs. If he appreciated the other things on show, he didn't make it obvious.

"It's because I need a badminton partner," he said ruefully.

Elizabeth eyes' widened in horror.

_Don't say it...Don't say it..._

_"_Do any of you know to play?"

And there it was. The hook. What a stupid hook, but it was going to give him an excuse to...

"Haven't played it in years. Is that the one where you hit like this?"

Michelle mimed hitting a tennis ball.

The man gave a second appreciative chuckle, and his hand reached out to correct her posture. His hand closed over her tiny wrist, and he rotated it in his hand, causing Michelle to shiver, like she was lead of a badly written Harlequin romance novel. He stepped closer, the other palm bracing her elbow, and Michelle's knees noticeably gave. Elizabeth gave a noise of suitable disgust, not keen on watching this farce.

Dear sweet Jesus.

Charles hadn't been interviewing for a secretary. He was acquiring a blow-up girl for this nefarious character.

She barged past the man, wondering when her standards had become so low. As she sailed past, she dug an elbow into the man's back and he had to put two hands out, to stop himself from crushing into Michelle. By the time, he'd muttered his apologies and extracted himself, the demented woman had swept around the corner and was gone.

What was Charles thinking, sending her up here?

She appeared to be a dreary soul, that sucked the life out of everything.

He said so as such, when he next ran into Charles, some ten minutes later. He'd come down on the lift, wanting to suggest Michelle as his next secretary, when he saw his old friend, pacing up and down near the stairs. Neither of them noticed a nearby Elizabeth, popping open the lid of a 7-up she'd just bought from a foyer's vending machine. Now, there was nothing left to do but head out.

"Darcy!"

Elizabeth looked up, lips poised to take a sip, and saw the man who was so desperately seeking a badminton partner, be flagged down, by the man she thought she'd shared a bonding moment with. Charles jogged over, and placed a hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"I think I've found the one!"

"The one?" Darcy raised his eyebrows. "Congratulations. When's the big day?"

"No, you nitwit! Not me! For you!"

"Yeah, I met them. Pleasant bunch."

"Was there someone who stood out?" Charles said eagerly, practically bouncing on his toes. "She's a gem, isn't she? Really doesn't look like much, but when she opens her mouth! Lord, she's a keeper! And I had a look at her CV. By far, the most qualified. Over-qualified, even. I'm surprised, she even gave us a chance, rather than setting up a company of her own. Darcy, she's perfect. I just know it!"

"Who are you talking about?" Darcy asked suspiciously, enamored with Michelle, but not to the point, of saying she had sparkling wit and repertoire.

"Elizabeth, of course!"

Elizabeth, who was still in earshot, sprayed out the 7-up in her mouth with surprise. She immediately fled, to hide behind a nearby clustering of columns, because Charles and Darcy had turned to the source of noise. Heart pounding, Elizabeth laid her head back on the cool marble and let the exchange wash over her.

There was a suspenseful silence.

"Elizabeth..."

"Yeah, you know. Five six. Shoulder length brown hair. Kinda cute face."

Darcy groaned, now knowing exactly who Charles was referring to. He whined petulantly, almost as if he was a child, and not a man in his mid-twenties. "Oh, not the sour-faced harpie_. _Anyone _but _her. She didn't say a word when I saw her. And I tried. I honestly tried to engage her in conversation, but she appeared like one of those people, who has nothing to say, or nothing worth listening to anyway. She just doesn't fit in with our company image. Too drab and dreary. Not a spark of personality, to be seen. I mean, chrissake did you see her _hair? _Did she cut it in the dark?"

Elizabeth put a hand over her mouth, the comments stinging.

"William," Charles said, a bit forcefully. "She'll do you the world of good. I know exactly the type you go for, and I think hiring her, we won't make the same mistakes as last time. When you shagged the god-damn PA, and then she leaked your itinerary for the next six months, causing our shares to slump. So what, if we're only a second-rate business, offering holiday packages to cash-strapped customers? We'll get there. _We'll get there."_

_"_And you think Miss Boring is the way to do it?" Darcy asked dubiously. "God, she looks uptight and frigid to the bone."

"Are you lost?"

The receptionist behind her desk, had come around to pick up a stray food wrapper, and caught Elizabeth's silhouette lurking behind the columns. Terrified that she would come closer, Elizabeth ducked her head, and started edging towards the exit, sprinting the last few steps before she cleared the revolving door.

Outside, the humiliation began to sink in.

.

.

.

**A/N: Katie...Darcy is here! :)**

**He is so "nice" to everyone, except Elizabeth. I plan to update consistently, so reviews really help :)**


	3. Deceptive Sinkhole at a Bus-Stop

"Call her."

"No."

"Do the right thing and _call her."_

Charles extended the phone to Darcy, who just stared at it like it was a mutating organism. There was a fine sheen across his forehead, like he was being coerced into something. Which couldn't be more closer to the truth. It had been one day, and Darcy hadn't lost any sleep over offending the girl's feelings. So why was Charles getting so hot and bothered about it? The insisting had steadily crept up this morning, until it turned into plain harassment.

"Fine." Darcy finally snapped, dialing. "But she won't answer after seeing my number-" He complacently placed the receiver against his ear. "She's too proud for-"

"Hello?" someone who could be only described in abject misery answered the phone.

Shit.

Darcy paled.

His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

"Who is this?" asked the voice timidly, still sounding small.

Of course she didn't have his number. He'd never given it.

Desperately, Darcy looked up at Charles, expecting him to coach him through this. But the bastard was gesturing his hands in a roly-poly motion, to encourage him to say something. What exited was a series of a gurgles, that a baby would be proud off, and he slammed the receiver back down.

"You idiot!" Charles wheeled away, fists bunched in his disgustingly spruced hair. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't know what to say!"

"How about sorry for starters? I'm a dick that likes making women cry. Please can I have your humble forgiveness?"

"Listen-" Darcy pointed a pen. "That was meant to be a private conversation -"

"In a very public foyer! Tell me, do you shit in the same place you eat too?"

Both men faced each other off, though Darcy had the disadvantage of being stuck behind his desk. He still thought it was a horrific idea, bringing Elizabeth Bennet on board, despite how much she excelled on paper. She was so pitiful, he almost felt sorry that she'd heard everything he had to say about her without it being censored. And that ridiculous notion of pity, was sitting uncomfortably in his stomach indeed. Damn his conscious. Somewhere in that skull, still retained that little boy's ideal of not wanting to see girls cry. Although, all he'd done was see her fleeing back, it had been enough for Bingley to clip him over the head.

He just couldn't handle tears.

Especially from people who had legitimate reasons to cry.

And Elizabeth had a _lot._

_"_Darcy, ring her again."

"Let's give her some breathing space, hmmm?"

"Do you want this fist shoved up your-"

Both men jumped, as the phone started ringing of it's cradle. Caller ID placed it as Elizabeth, ringing back, to see who'd just called her. Darcy looked frozen on the spot. The berk appeared to be terrified, of talking to her, and actually finding out how to move pass this. It was clear as day, he felt guilty about what had gone down and now he didn't know how to handle the repercussions.

Charles, seeing this very real human emotion, decided to spare him just this once.

He picked up the cradle, and pressed the button, for him to take the call in another room.

"Hold on," he said. "I'll transfer you to another line."

Bingley spent half and hour on the call, and when he came back, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Darcy frowned, and pretended like he was sifting through some legal paperwork, but every part of him was aware that the outcome of the call was staring him solidly in the face.

"She wants to talk to you," Charles said softly. "Don't balls it up."

.

.

She'd picked the place, wanting to meet him on her terms.

Darcy arrived first, and picked a spot towards the back, near the toilets, like he wanted to tuck himself away from the world. She'd chosen a low-traffic coffeehouse, where people didn't have to shout to be heard and everything was plodding along at a pedestrian pace. Unused to being in his own company for so long, Darcy's leg started bouncing up and down as he stared through the door.

He could see all the way out onto the road, and his heart did a funny kind of can-can, when a slight female in a loose-fitting white top, and skinny jeans, with her hair gathered at the top of her head, revealing her little neck and the beginnings of her collarbone, pushed open the door, by using most of her body.

Was it her?

He narrowed his eyes, surprised and a little annoyed he didn't know.

When did he become so obtuse?

He watched the woman walk, quick and very direct. And then...

Someone pushed their chair back and stood up, blocking the woman's way. Without breaking her stride, she calmly did a right angle turn and walked around the empty table to her left, so she could clear the obstruction, without demanding the person to move or politely requesting it.

She was prepared to walk extra far, just to prevent inconveniencing someone else...

No, she was heading to the counter, rooting around in her bag for a purse. Darcy sprung up, and ate up the room in seconds, pulling his wallet out along the way. He pushed a tenner over to the barista, and braced a hand against the small of her back, wanting to guide her back to his table.

Her face, turned to him, delicate and frowning.

"Who are you?"

"I'm-" the words died on his lips.

It wasn't her. _It wasn't her._

"So..." a voice drawled from behind the counter, like it was a bad dream. "I see you can't resist picking up girls, even when it's meant to be a serious meeting between you and me. Don't you have a single sensitive bone in your body?"

He turned and met the red-rimmed eyes of Elizabeth Bennet. There was nothing delicate about the expression on her face. The lines on her face was harsh and unforgiving, her build slim, but with a bit more curve to her shoulders, bust and hips. She was hiding under her cap and apron, but she quickly removed those, and called out to another staff member, who was standing closer to the tills.

"I'm clocking out for the day, Mr Collins. I'll see you when you're next understaffed."

"You - You work in a _coffee place?"_

She said coolly, "I'm a temp. I work in lots of places."

"But usually coffeehouses, bars, diners...that kind of thing?"

"Yes. It's an environment I've been working in since I was seventeen, and feel the most comfortable in. Here, I don't get reduced to nerves or become a blubbering wreck. I'm simply me."

Darcy quirked an eyebrow.

"Surprised?" Elizabeth asked humourlessly. "That I actually pay for myself in this big, wide world? That I actually have something to say - _savour," _she changed the last word to savour, the closest to admitting he'd said all those hurtful things. Darcy felt even more dreadful. He'd really cut her bone deep. How could he reverse all the damage he'd caused?

"I heard you're leaving for the day," he blurted out. "Do you want a lift home? My car's just outside..."

She responded by staring at him, eyes wide.

And then, something strange happened - her lips turned slightly upwards, like she was fighting a smile.

Darcy threw caution into the wind, and beamed outrageously back at her, wanting to show the relief he felt, that she wasn't turning him away, cursing him to hell and back, and throwing pound coins at him like heat seeking missiles. Elizabeth's hand went up, and played around with the silver pendant around her neck.

"Wow," she muttered to herself. "That actually looked sincere."

The easy smile on Darcy's face slipped away, to be replaced by a frown.

"I can be sincere when I want."

"Okay," she said, disbelievingly. "Look, I haven't got to the point where I want to accept free rides from you, but I'll be willing to walk down the road, and you have till the end of it, to say your piece and move on."

"I'll make every minute count."

"We'll meet outside in five, then."

.

.

They walked side by side, together yet apart. Whenever a person approached them on the pavement from the opposite direction, they'd move like magnets repelling each other, allowing the person to walk through the gap in the middle. It earned them a few pointed looks, because people weren't sure if they were companions or not. Despite declaring he'd make every minute count, the first one went by, without a peep from him.

But that all changed well into the second minute.

This time, Darcy forgot to repel himself from Elizabeth. When he saw a mother approaching with a buggy, he instinctively placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm, and tucked himself behind her, so the woman could pass. He smiled at the woman, as she nodded at him in appreciation.

"That was...nice."

Darcy let Elizabeth abruptly go.

"I didn't know you had it in you." She peeked over her shoulder.

"Why?" He said stiffly. "I'm capable of compassion."

"Really?"

Ouch, he walked right into that.

"Why did you agree to meet me?" He drew level with her again, knowing there was quite a walk ahead of them. "Did Charles bribe you?"

"No. He just groveled on your behalf."

"I should thank him," he said faintly.

"You really hurt me. Yesterday...wasn't nice."

"God, this is going to erode my masculinity." Darcy took a deep breath through his nose. "But I suppose I should Sigmund Freud that shit. That stuff I came out with...I'm deeply sorry. My mother raised me better than that. It's just that...whenever I feel like I can't connect with someone, or they're not interested in connecting with me - it's my natural instinct to insult them. I do it behind customers backs too. It's a tough habit to break." He closed his eyes momentarily, having just divulged a shameful secret about himself.

Saying it out loud, made him looking like a little schoolboy incapable of accepting petty differences.

How bad must he look in her eyes?

Why did he suddenly care?

"Will you forgive me?" He said, blinking at the sky. "I know I'm a asshole, but I don't like seeing people cry."

Elizabeth stopped incredulously. The time, _she _jerked him to the side, allowing a fast walker to overtake them. They both stopped conveniently near a bus-stop, so it didn't look too out of place.

"At any point talking to you," Elizabeth asked incredulously. "Did you see me bursting into tears?"

"Well, no but-"

"Where did that come from then?"

"Well, didn't you - yesterday?"

"I admit, it did take me ten minutes to recover. But from a young age, I've known most people are quick to judge, from visual cues alone. It's unavoidable. Even deep-thinkers like me can't help going by first impressions." She smiled lightly at nothing. "But you hadn't talked me, or if you did - not for long. That's what rankled the most. You didn't even give me the chance to speak, and yet you labelled me as someone devoid of personality. I felt angry, but it's your depth of character at the end of the day - very shallow."

It felt like someone had landed an uppercut to his face.

He always sought meaning in his life. He gave to charity. Helped out at the soup-kitchens.

But maybe he did it all that, because his mother drilled it into him - give to the poor, give to the poor...

Give everything except your heart.

"But maybe..." she added reluctantly, staring up at the bus timetable. The next one was imminently due. "You're one of these people who appear shallow on the surface, but when you jump in, it's deceptively a sinkhole. It takes a lot of guts to admit you're wrong...and you did just that. Congratulations."

"Charles was right." He watched a bus pull into the stop, and the doors swing open. "You're...You're exactly what the company needs."

It pained him to admit it.

But would she say yes?

.

.

.

**A/N: ****Thank you to everyone that reviewed. Yes, I made Darcy blond, I hope you don't mind since he's got black hair in the original, but I wanted to capitalize on the whole "golden boy" thing and also the two people who compared this to Ugly Betty are genius's. It's a bit like that (the Betty/Daniel relationship) but I'm planning to have lots of romance in mine, instead of hinting at it...**

**Please review :) Cookies for all.**


	4. Overheating People

Somewhere in the mess of her convoluted dreams, the doorbell went and an impatient feminine voice greeted a more masculine one. She rolled over and stared at the time. It was seven AM. The masculine voice retreated, leaving the feminine one to groan and puff like she was moving something heavy.

Thirty minutes later, Charlotte padded out of her room and went to investigate what her flatmate was up to, apparently having been visited by a courier.

She pulled the belt of her dressing gown tight, and was surprised to see Elizabeth in the living room, with empty boxes spread everywhere, and every inch on the floor by her feet, covered by tomes of paper, that were in assorted coloured files. If Elizabeth wasn't already a graduate, it could almost be an exact replica of how Elizabeth used to work on her dissertation through the nights back in University.

Currently, she was scoffing and rolling her eyes, dragging a finger down the page, before flipping it over to read what was on the other side. It looked wordy and comprehensive.

"Can you believe this?" She said eyes fixed, sensing Charlotte had stumbled upon the scene. "I've gone through the terms of employment and it looks like my role is more of a chaperone, than a PA! Seriously. He needs someone on his coattails, handing out business cards and information, because he never carries them around - and the looks of it, never carries pen or paper too! How can he call himself a businessman?"

Elizabeth furiously flipped another page, not allowing Charlotte to speak.

" I'm required to the know the ins and outs of the statistics more than he does, and read through every document that comes to his desk, highlighting out the important bits, so he comes along and takes credit for my work!" Steam nearly appeared from her nostrils. "At this rate, I would know more about the business than he does, yet _he _will have the higher title!"

She scanned another line, and said in more mollified voice. "Although, the sick pay does sound exceptional and I have first pick of holidays."

A second later - "But I _still _have the more traditional duties, like photocopying, faxing, fielding calls, running to pick him lunch! Honestly, does he want a slave or a secretary?"

Elizabeth screwed up her eyes, and leaned her head back against the settee like she was gaining a massive migraine. "But how can I turn my back on £24,000 per annum? And with bonus's, that could go up to £27,000!"

Charlotte wrinkled her nose, having seen _The Devil wears Prada _and speaking for the first time.

"Would you have to be at his beck and call even during the nighttime?"

"It doesn't say," Elizabeth said faintly. "But I imagine if he's a tyrant...then yes."

"_Is _he a tyrant?" Charlotte sidled through the gap between the coffee table and the black, leather armchair, and sat on the latter, opposite Elizabeth. Having somewhat of a protective nature, she didn't like to see her dear friend get stressed or overworked, something that happened regularly in their household. She always listened patiently, when Elizabeth needed to get something of her chest.

"No." A pucker appeared between her eyebrows. "I wouldn't say tyrannical. He has a lot more self-awareness than I first accredited him for, and he definitely knows how he impacts people, both positively and negatively. It just means that..." she winced, almost like she couldn't believe she was saying the words. "I don't know if I necessarily like him...as of yet."

"Lizzy!" Charlotte said, appalled. "How can you even consider working for someone you don't like?"

"I respect him though," Elizabeth said automatically. "...I think?"

"You sound confused."

"It's because he's a confusing person." Elizabeth dropped her face into her hands. How to explain, how conflicted she felt? She'd felt a connection with Darcy when he'd come to see her at her place of work, and it even changed her perceptions on him to a degree. But she couldn't forget his words about her, that time in the foyer. The callous way he dispensed them, suggested a cruel streak that could resurface at critical times. He played nice to people who sat well with him. Cast away those who had no use...

But still.

There was something about him she found agreeable.

He wasn't a total beast.

Charlotte sucked in her breath, and clucked in the deep recesses of her throat, as she pondered Lizzy. Her friend was subconsciously stroking the words on the page, revealing where her true sentiments lie. Who was this man to her? Was she honestly going to sell herself short, inserting herself under him? Lizzy belonged at the top of the pyramid, not as one of it's supporting blocks. But Lizzy...beautiful Lizzy...she would be the last person to see it. How magnificent she was. How awe-inspiring, gentle and strong...

"Why has he sent you his dossier?" Charlotte asked sharply. "Have you already accepted?"

Elizabeth blinked.

Then she gave a small nod, like she deserved nothing more.

.

.

Humming, feeling pleased for no reason, Darcy strolled into his office mid-morning. He didn't look to see who was sitting behind the secretary's desk, but he did a double-take, when he saw a black figure sitting primly out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled around, jacket slung over one shoulder, and went to greet the newest addition.

"Elizabeth!" He said, in a booming voice, causing several people to look over. "Settling in well, I hope?"

"Yes, thank you," came her response.

"Has David already showed you the ropes?" He asked in some surprise. Since their travel agency hired a thirteen strong team of web designers, as they mostly dealt with the online market, though a very small portion of it - David had been manning the desk for the past fortnight, until the new PA stepped in.

At the mention of his name, David popped his head up from behind Elizabeth's desk, like he'd been scrabbling around on the floor.

"What are you doing down there?" Darcy asked suspiciously.

"Just fiddling around the system unit. I think the hard drive's overheating."

"Oh," Darcy said, stumped. "Didn't we just replace it?"

"Yeah, maybe it's the internal wiring." David dived back under the desk, close to Elizabeth's legs. She scooted out, giving him more room. Darcy once again flicked his eyes over Elizabeth's apparel, noticing she was wearing the same trouser suit combo from her disastrous interview. She looked like a sexually repressed headmistress, who didn't know the meaning of fun.

He leaned over a desk, placing a palm on it for balance, as he worked on his own tie - loosening it.

"Hey," he said, wandering how to approach the topic without causing offense. But he was looking out for her - isn't that what friends did? "We're more lax about clothing, than you think. You don't have to wear a blazer around here. Just a simple white shirt...or any colour shirt...with a skirt...I mean, trousers is fine."

Elizabeth stared up at him impassively, eyes penetrative.

"Thanks for letting me know."

Unusually flushed, Darcy gestured at his neck. "Why don't you loosen up your collar button? We won't think less of you, we promise."

"Yeah." David popped up again. "I mean, since the web designers don't even get to see any of our clientele, we get to turn up in our pajamas!" He was currently wearing a t-shirt, with a picture of Malibu beach on it, and a pair of old jeans.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said pointedly at both of them, wanting the conversation to end.

Darcy nodded, putting the matter out of his mind, and strolled into his office. Two hours later, Charles caught him messing around with the thermostat, as he walked into the stock supply room, wanting to fetch a stapler, since the last one had been taken from his desk. Darcy straightened up agonizingly quickly, like he'd just been caught doing something unscrupulous.

"What are you doing?" Charles asked suspiciously.

"Ahhh...nothing."

"Ahhh, nothing?" He mimicked his friend, narrowing his eyes and stepping closer. "Why are you increasing the temperature of our offices?"

Darcy scratched the back of his head. "I thought it was cold."

"Cold?" Charles repeated. "It's the beginning of autumn, I give you that, but there's a long way to go, before we need the heating. What's the real reason?"

Darcy was beginning to sweat. And not out of nervousness.

"Jesus! Aren't you going to turn it down?"

After a pause, Darcy finally admitted, "I can't. And not out of lack of trying. The damn thing's stuck."

"Stuck?" Charles eyes widened to twice their size. "You broke our freaking thermostat?"

"How was I supposed to know it would break?"

"Right," Charles said grimly, analyzing the situation and coming to the only available conclusion. "We need to evacuate all three floors. We can't have our employees fainting from heatstroke. I'll let everyone on the first two floors know. You take the third."

"Charles!" He tried to rationalize, but the man was determined not to let his workers suffer. He stared grimly at Darcy, like he was trying to read his soul, then disappeared towards the lifts, so he could put his plan to immediate affect. Sobering up, Darcy walked back to his office and glowered at the root of his problem. Finally, she'd taken her blazer off, and was now even using a brochure to waft a welcome breeze against her chest.

"Will!" she said, perking up. "It's hot in here, isn't it?"

_Yes. Because I wanted to engineer a situation where you could possibly take your blazer off. You must understand. I'm used to manipulating people into doing what I want, and you hadn't listened to my advice earlier. That annoyed me to no end and it's another shortcoming, I didn't tell you about. Anyways, I only meant to turn it up by a few degrees. How did I flipping know, the knob will come off in my hands? When did they last check that thing? In the 1930's?_

"Yes," he said shortly, annoyed with himself. That was last time he would meddle in what Elizabeth Bennet wore. He just didn't need the hassle. "Why don't you follow me out? Everyone's leaving for the day, because of a gas problem. It should be fixed by tomorrow."

"Oh..." She pursed her lips.

"You'll get full pay, of course." He turned towards the door.

"Would you like to get ice-cream?"

"Huh?" He swiveled to face her.

Elizabeth was gathering up her bag, and slung her blazer over one arm. Some of her hair was sticking to the back of her neck, much like how his shirt clung underneath his armpits, and his face was turning red and blotchy.

"Yeah," she said, talking herself into it. "We could all do with an ice-cream. Is Charles interested?"

"Yes, he is." Bingley emerged just at that moment, unsmiling, and invited himself along to the ice-cream trip. His gaze softened as it fell upon Elizabeth, clearly finding a soft spot. Darcy found himself perturbed. This was _his _secretary. If Bingley wanted an ice-cream of his own, then he should hire his own god-damn personal assistant. But he accepted it with good grace.

"Where are we going?" He grumbled.

She smiled. "To an ice-cream van, of course!"

.

.

The three of them, walked under the sheltering canopies of the park, relishing the coolness they were lapping with their tongue, alongside the slight wind, that was making the trees rustle. Elizabeth walked slightly out front, whilst Charles and Will walked in unison, making small talk.

Which was mainly grunts.

"This is good, isn't it?" Elizabeth suddenly whirled around, facing them.

"Mmm," grunted Charles, licking at a melting drop of ice-cream sliding down the cone.

"Urrggh," said Darcy.

Elizabeth stared at them, and suddenly glanced at her watch.

"Hey," she said impulsively. "Why don't I head back towards the office? Check if there's any new mail, or telephone messages I've missed?"

"Hasn't David set that up, so you get alerts to your smartphone?" Charles frowned.

"Not yet." Elizabeth shrugged.

"I've got the keys. I'll walk you back."

They both looked at Darcy, who was now nibbling at the tip of his cone, trying to get at the chocolate base. He looked up at their attention, and excused himself from their walk back, wanting to head home early and spend some time with his sister and aunt. Georgiana would've finished college early today, and it would be a pleasure to catch up for a few hours.

"I'm sorry, guys." He shook his head. "I don't think you need me to escort you there, Elizabeth. See you both tomorrow."

Charles muttered something under his breath, as Darcy walked away, fair head still visible over a hedge as he turned a corner, and walked alongside it, towards a main road, where he could head towards the tube station.

It sounded suspiciously as like, "_That prick doesn't have a care in the world__."_

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth ventured, appreciating his assistance, and they talked naturally and with ease, all the way, until they reached the office and let themselves in. The workmen were scheduled to arrive at four, so Charles would have to come back in a couple hours anyway, to let them in.

"It won't take long." She darted towards the lifts.

God, this was all new to her. And David wasn't even around, if she pressed the wrong button, or accidentally deleted all the messages. Did she even remember the password to her computer? He'd left a sticky note somewhere, and she'd reasoned leaving it behind, instead of taking it with her...Was it still there? Could she cope with forwarding a few relevant messages to Darcy, if there was any at all?

Of course she could.

Elizabeth repeated this to herself, as she hastily walked towards the blinking answer machine. She pressed play.

"Hi, this is Moira Banks. Is this the head office? I booked a ticket to St. Lucia online yesterday, having never used your service before, and it appears the amount that was taken from my account, is different to the amount I was told to pay on screen. And now none of you are answering the phone? That takes the fucking cake. What kind of jumped up arse-bumming business are you running? You f $%$! Are all of you listening to this, bumming each other? GOD!"

Elizabeth hadn't quite recovered from the shocking message; before the next one started.

This one too, began in dulcet tones, so she couldn't second guess which way it would go. She found herself, quaking in her shoes.

"-Nobody's in? Ah. Well, it's unfortunate I can't reveal the good news directly to you, Mr Bingley, but an opening has come up in our schedule, due to a benefactor dropping out - so yes - tomorrow you can have a stadium in front of the greatest industry experts and sponsors in our country, if you want it."

A small wheeze, the person clearly running out of breath.

"I'm sorry it's short notice, but we expect you to print fifty copies of your presentation, and the actual presentation to be ten minutes long, with a Q&amp;A afterward. Please focus on how your travel agency is different from anyone else's. We'll be meeting at Longbourn Hotel, postcode AL10 8KN, which is near the University of Hertfordshire. Refreshments will be provided. Call us back if you have any more questions or if you can't make it. Bye. Oh, and Mr Bingley? Be sure to remember an opportunity like this won't come by easily again."

_Click._

This was only her first day, and Elizabeth felt like she was way in over her head.

.

.

.

**A/N: Do you guys want me to continue? :P Barely heard from anyone last time (though StoryPirate, Dt and wonderwoman1970...you rock). ****Anyway, you know the bit in my summary? When I said "Darcy tries to kiss Elizabeth?"...that's all going down in the next chapter.**

**Hope you guys are excited as I am.**


	5. He Tried To Kiss Her

He was in the last vestiges of sleep, sheets rucked to his waist, so the smooth curve of his back was exposed to the world, when someone entered the room, and quietly shook his arm. Darcy groaned, and turned his head to the other side, not wanting to be woken just yet. But the shaking was insistent.

"What is it?" He turned to face Georgiana, pillow creases on his face.

She held the phone aloft, not wishing to have disturbed his sleep, but the person on the other end had sound so panicked, she had no choice but to enter her brother's room.

"It's...Here!" She thrust the phone into his hand, wanting to divulge herself of the responsibility.

Annoyed, Darcy gathered the sheets around his hips, so it didn't slip any further and answered the phone, already feeling irritated with the person before conversing with them. Charles wouldn't dare to ring him on his house number. Not, unless their agency was burning down...

Grouchily, Darcy remembered the thermostat incident from the day before.

"What do you want?" He barked, not bothering to soften his tone. Georgiana saw this as her cue to sneak out, closing the door quietly behind her.

There was a little pause, before a voice hesitantly struck out, growing in confidence the more she went on uninterrupted. "It's Elizabeth. You weren't answering your mobile. I hope it's not deliberate or malicious on your part. It's just that I haven't heard from you since yesterday. And this pitch - it sounds so important - I don't want you to lose out because your secretary's inadequately prepared - but Charles says everything's in hand - but I just wanted to double-check with you, since you might have a task for me-"

Her babbling was making his gut churn. He didn't need her nerves, palpable as they were but wholly misdirected, causing him more anxiety. So he'd switched his phone off yesterday. It didn't warrant eighteen miscalls. _Eighteen! _She was very persistent, and would be useful in many other areas of his life, but right now, in the harsh glare of the morning - she came across as a nightmare.

Charles had told her everything was in hand - so why couldn't she let sleeping dogs lie?

"Surely Charles must've explained to you -" He got out of bed, and went to the dresser. "This presentation had been prepared for over six months now, because we knew an opportunity like this, would be along soon. So you - how did you get this number by the way?" He never gave out his house number, to people he didn't know well. Which meant someone he held in close regards, had ratted him out.

"_Are you sure?" _Elizabeth pressed, ignoring him. "I would hate for you to stumble-"

Was she hellbent on making him loose his cool? What was this talk of stumbling and losing out, and that somehow _she_, the person who'd been working from him for a day, could come to his _rescue? _She appeared to be the nagging fishwife type, the one who stood over your shoulder, asking you if you'd remembered _that, _or this, and of course, her bleating would drive any sane man round the bend.

He almost felt tempted to swear at her.

"God-damn," he muttered to himself. "I don't need all this _negativity."_

Elizabeth hadn't heard him, thank god.

"Do you want me to wait at the office?" She asked. "So we can all go together?"

Darcy's lips tightened. This pitch had nothing to do with her. If she'd _not _miscalled him eighteen times, and just the once, or twice say, he would definitely have considered asking her along, so she could get a taste of what conference speaking was like, and take notes, so she would know what to expect in the future. But she'd tried and tested his mood, by being so single-minded, it was making him rather dislike her...at that moment.

There was a reason he hadn't answered the first time, and then switched his phone off, when it got to the fourteenth.

She was...

"Do whatever you want," he said, and ended the call abruptly.

Seconds later, he was calling Charles.

"Reverse your decision right now," he growled. "Why does she have to be my secretary?"

"Oh dear."

"Says the gallant fellow who gave her my _private, personal _number. What exactly did you tell her yesterday? She'd been ringing me non-stop since then. Can't I have some blessed peace? Doesn't she understand that I don't want to be contacted when I'm with my _family_ unless it's something serious? She forwarded the flipping calls! What else does she want - a medal? My voice thanking her personally? Does that excite her? Make her feel validated-"

"Will-"

"Do you think I want to be this angry in the morning? She brought it out in me! Gah! Why did I let you talk me into apologizing to her? She's insufferable! Now, I know she'd not devoid of a personality, she just has a bloody annoying one!"

"Will, you're letting your emotions get the better of you. You don't mean any of that."

"Don't I?"

"No. No, you _like _her, remember? She's just being a good PA, that's all. She's just concerned about today, and that's understandable."

Deep inside, Darcy knew Bingley was talking sense. But the culmination of being irritable whenever he was woken unexpectedly, and Elizabeth going to such lengths to contact him, wasn't making him appreciate the good side of her at the minute. Later on, he'd feel like he'd overacted, and make a point to seek her out and talk to her - like he always did.

But right now?

All he wanted to do, was distance himself from her for a while.

What he hadn't counted on, was her coming to _him._

_._

_. _

_"_No, you must understand!" Elizabeth insisted to the unforgiving security guard who was blocking the door. At any moment, she expected him to bodily hoist her over his shoulder, and carry her kicking and screaming away from the venue. "I'm part of this group! I'm one of the aides, to a speaker inside! Surely, you have his name on the list? It's Mr William Darcy."

The security guard made a show of consulting his list.

"There's no Mr William Darcy," he said finally, with a smirk. "Do you need to be escorted out, Miss?"

"How about a Mr Fitzwilliam, then?" A voice said cynically behind her.

She turned to face a man, with a large camera around his neck, clearly marking him out as paparazzi, with dark hair slung in a low ponytail, and one of his eyebrows pierced. He looked at her with a small grin, and greeted the security guard by name. The security guard looked at both of them with a surprised expression, but then stepped aside to let them through.

"Ah, thank you...?" She tailed off, waiting for him to fill her in.

"George. George Wickham." He offered her a hand, after wiping it on his trousers, and Elizabeth gingerly accepted the tip of his fingers. She quickly let go, fighting a faint blush. He gestured at her to go in front, and Elizabeth now miraculously found her path clear of any obstructions, though whether he was being a gent, or he just wanted to admire her arse, she wasn't quite sure. To allay her suspicions, he caught up with her soon enough.

"So..." he began. "That's quite embarrassing. Only knowing a common variant of Darcy's first name. Are you an impostor?" He teased.

"Certainly not," Elizabeth said, ruffled. "I admit, that was quite embarrassing, not knowing your boss's real name or him not caring to inform me, but I can only hide behind my naivety. I'm Elizabeth, his PA for the second day."

"Ah...that was quick. And you're certainly different from the rest."

His eyes roamed appreciatively over Elizabeth's attire, which _gasp, _she'd settled for a teal, scoop necked blouse, which was ruffled and short-sleeved, teamed with a grey, pencil skirt, that hung rather flatteringly to her legs. Her skirt ended just below the knee, but underneath she had a pair of tights on and her shows remained despairingly the same.

At least, there was some colour to her wardrobe.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, bringing his attention up from her legs. This time it skittered over her chest, which Elizabeth was modestly covering with a file. "Are you here to take a few photo's?"

"Yes...I'm covering this event for a local newspaper."

"And Will?" Elizabeth asked, curious despite herself. "Do you have some history with him?"

They'd been walking along a raised gangway, which lead out to an amphitheatre-style room, with rows of plush, red velvet seats descending down, until at the very bottom, there was a raised podium, and an overhead projector, so whoever was giving the speech, could show their slides or video, before talking on. As they were near the top, Elizabeth had to squint to see who was currently on stage. The room was darkened, so everyone could currently watch the video of a family frolicking around on the beach. At the corner, it was date-stamped with the logo, _Lambton &amp; Co. _Underneath the overheard projector, two men were politely staring down at their crossed legs, waiting for the video to finish.

It was Charles and William.

Sensing a loss, Elizabeth looked around and saw George was pushing his way through a nearby row of seats. He looked back, and gave her a cheeky wave that promised of a later reunion. She stared blankly after him, before turning in the opposite direction and spotting an aisle seat.

She felt a mixed bag of emotions as the video came to the end, and the dimmed lights came back on. It was like she was a stranger to them. Apparently this pitch was something they'd prepared for a while back, but neither of them wanted to keep her up to date. It was her chasing them. It was her getting worried over nothing. And Darcy especially...he seemed affronted by her. Almost like she was meddling. But wasn't the nature of her job all about meddling?

Was it her fault, that she was over-cautious and meticulous by nature, to the point of pernickety?

Why had she even come, when she hadn't been openly invited? All Darcy said was to "_do as she wanted." _What kind of motto was that?

God! He was so...lackadaisical!

" - Helsinki, Oslo, Stockholm and Reykjavik. The latest destinations we offer packages to. We have excellent, competitive prices to the rest of Europe too, and as our company grows, we will be interested in expanding to Asia and the Americas by the middle of next year in our expected projection rates. We offer travel insurance beginning from six pounds, and we can also arrange car rentals, and tickets to tourist destinations at a discounted rate or part of the deal."

Envy clawed in her heart.

When Will started speaking, she watched his body language, the hands he used for emphasis but never threw around, and the way everyone listened, grudging respect in their eyes. For the few minutes he spoke, he owned that stage.

She was jealous of him and everything he stood for. To be that at ease with oneself!

But when he finished, she clapped and cheered like everyone else.

.

.

Charles eyes were shining, as he clapped Will around the back, outside the conference hall. They'd posed for a couple of pictures, shaken hands with several important people in the industry, and a couple of magazines even hinted they were prepared to list _Lambton &amp; Co _as a viable holiday booking site.

Most importantly - a Mr Edward Gardiner had shown interest in a possible investment of £200,000.

This was beyond huge.

"I've called Caroline with the good news," Charles said, referring to his sister. "She couldn't be more thrilled! She's coming to collect us, and said we should all go out to celebrate. How does sushi sound to you?"

"I'm game," Darcy immediately said, eyes skipping over the crowd.

His mind was taken up with thoughts of Elizabeth, and how she'd presented herself to him, a little over an hour ago. He'd been surprised to say the least, when she'd shouted out a rushed explanation of not wanting to miss the show. It wouldn't have been hard to find the hotel, especially since she'd been the first to listen to the message and pass it on. But still...she was here.

Someone tapped him on the back of his shoulder.

It was Elizabeth, beaming up at him.

"You did so well," she said, and instinctively held open her arms.

Well...this was awkward. Clearly, the move had surprised her as much as it did him, but it was a little too late for either of them to pretend it was nothing less than an invitation for an hug. He looked down the length of her body, the sight pleasuring him a little but not enough, to press against it. But there was little he could do. He shrank awkwardly, pressing into her arms, his chin on her shoulder, but taking care not to align their torso's. His hand came up and gently rested on her waist and Elizabeth's nervously settled around his shoulders.

He could feel the slight susurration of her breath brushing into the intimate canal of his ear.

The pressure of her hold was just right. For a marginal second, Darcy came close to sinking into her completely, but they extracted themselves from each other and pointedly looked at the floor.

"...Thanks," he said eventually.

Elizabeth made a lunge, like she was planning on darting away.

"Wait." He narrowed his eyes, his irritation resurfacing from earlier, but more mild. "Where are you going? You need to stay."

"Huh?" She fretted, still feeling the ghost of his palms settling around her middle.

"Yeah." There was a dark look in his eyes. "I plan to get completely trashed tonight. I need someone to see I get home alright. And since you're my secretary..." He smiled sweetly.

Elizabeth's heart thumped extra hard.

"If-If you insist..." she said, shakily.

"Great," Charles broke in, having seen the welcoming figure of Caroline striding to them, a massive grin on her face. She was a pretty woman, with a good taste in fashion, and always had her hair styled in a topknot or whatever. Tonight, she was wearing an emerald leather jacket, skinny jeans, and designer boots. Typical Caroline. "Over here!" He called, flagging her down. Within thirteen strides, she was upon him, first kissing her brother cheek to cheek, and then making a bigger fuss of doing the same to Will. Elizabeth offered a hand, but it went ignored.

Frowning she took it back, but it didn't go unnoticed by Darcy.

"Well," he said, pushing Caroline back. "I hope you don't mind another member to our party, Caroline. But I've invited her along, if it's all the same to you. Elizabeth Bennet, Caroline Bingley. Caroline, Elizabeth."

All the warmth evapourated in a second. As Caroline did a subtle once over, turning an upper lip, at the gamely woman who was standing incredibly close to Will, she looked close to scoffing.

"Pleasure," she sneered, before turning back to Darcy. "But Will..." she whined. "I only booked three reservations."

Darcy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then poor Elizabeth would simply have to sit on my lap."

This caused a suitable amount of shock to go around the group, though Charles looked slightly interested about the power play going on between the women. Darcy never usually stepped in, during one of Caroline's infamous put-downs, but clearly he thought, Elizabeth couldn't handle her own. As it was, she hadn't opened her mouth from the moment his sister descended.

"If-If it's quite alright..." Elizabeth stuttered then. "I'll take my leave."

"Nonsense." He reached out and grabbed her wrist in an iron-clad grasp. After a small squeeze, he let her go. "You're coming with us, and that's final."

They proceeded onto the sushi bar and the entire ride with Caroline driving, felt extremely uncomfortable despite Charles, the one she got on easiest with, sitting beside her in the back, and offering entertaining anecdotes, that didn't require much interjections than a slight titter. Caroline was the most vocal, asking Darcy many questions, as he silently stewed up front.

At the bar, Elizabeth was relieved to learn she didn't have to sit on Darcy's lap after all. He sat beside her, no question about it, trapping her against the window so she had no escape. Caroline grumpily sat opposite Darcy, and shot a look so hateful towards Elizabeth, it petrified her to her bones.

"What do you want to drink?" Darcy asked her. He seemed determined to bring her out of her shell, so exasperated with her steadfast exterior, it made him want to pick on her, and make her loosen up a little. To have fun. To be free.

"A glass of -"

"Champagne, it is then. And you can't refuse, Elizabeth. Not when we're celebrating such a grand day."

She accepted the first glass without complaint.

"Cheers." They all clinked their glasses.

Darcy watched out of the corner of his eye, as Elizabeth's throat luxuriously bobbed as she downed half the glass, whilst he drank his bone dry. He reached for the bottle, and grimly topped up all their glasses, still feeling in a punishing mood. Elizabeth made a noise of protest, but let him fill right to the brim, warily reminding him this was the last top-up she wanted. Already, she was sucking the joy out of things, not knowing how to let go or relax.

Caroline and Charles left the table to place their orders, and Elizabeth finding her throat parched, took a few sips.

Immediately, Darcy had lifted up the bottle.

"What are you doing?" She asked sharply.

"Elizabeth." He put the bottle back down. "You need to learn how to fit into a social setting, because you're such an awkward person to be around."

A kind of shocked gasp left her, and in a burst of pure, hot rage, her hand jerked, and the glass still somewhat full, toppled over and started pouring out onto the tablecloth. Her first instinct was to apologise, and start mopping up, but Darcy's chiding remark still clouded her judgement. Just as Charles returned with a platter of rice and fish, Elizabeth staggered up, and keeping her face averted, pushed past Darcy and towards the exit.

Darcy was looking after her with an extremely predatory look, before he too was on his feet, chasing her.

"Did I miss something?" Charles looked both ways. "Where's the fire?"

Everyone watched with interest, as through the transparent windows, Darcy caught up with his prey, and spun her around, with one hand on her upper arm. Elizabeth was shaking so much, that everyone said _"ooooh" _as Darcy took hold of her head with both hands, and leaned his forehead against hers, grounding her.

"What the hell is going on?" spat Caroline, joining him. "Why is everyone looking out of the window -"

Outside, Darcy had sobered up fast.

"Please don't be offended," he whispered. "I can't take it, Elizabeth...not from you."

"Shut up," she said through gritted teeth. "I hate you right now."

Darcy sighed. "Those words...they came out wrong..."

"Why does this feel familiar?" Elizabeth spat out, staring deep into his eyes. "Clearly you have some vindictive streak in you, but the moment you feel you've gone too far, it's all apologies and lies." Her eyes were a watery sheen, which Darcy deeply regretted causing. "I thought I saw more in you..." A kind of half-moan came out of her, and it caused him to act irrationally.

He ducked his head, trying to capture her lips, to show how sorry he felt, because it was the only way he knew how to comfort women. Particularly women, he found increasingly attractive. And he did at that moment. Find her increasingly attractive.

But she turned her face away, and his soft kiss landed on her cheek, denying him the pleasure.

Darcy felt the rebuttal deep in his heart.

"Am I not handsome enough for you?" He asked. "Does nothing about me tempt you?"

"You are quite arrogant," she said stiffly. "And now it is your turn to fire me."

He leaned forward, to throatily mutter. "There will be no firing. Instead, I'll make it my mission to be your closest friend." And he gave another light peck on her cheek, now holding her shoulders tight.

Caroline threw her purse at the window.

.

.

.

**A/N: Oh, Caroline...**

**Pernickety is british slang for being fussy. Though doesn't everyone know that? :P Longest chapter yet! And I actually sat and read P&amp;P this morning...I've forgotten how beautiful it was. And gah! I wanted to bash in Caroline's head half the time! How thoroughly unpleasant she was...slagging of Lizzy and being a...witch.**


	6. Breakfast Together

He spent the remainder of the evening drinking; following through on his promise of getting completely trashed. That incident before...he wanted to forget it. The swirl of humiliation, of being rejected, was unfamiliar as it was opportunistic. He certainly hadn't planned on kissing Elizabeth Bennet today. But look how he tried, the second he got a chance. She hadn't exactly responded like she appreciated the sentiment, but maybe that was a good thing. She was keeping him in his place. He wouldn't step out of line, if she didn't want it.

Eyes bloodshot, Darcy turned to the person sitting next to him.

"Why aren't you going home?" He croaked. Elizabeth hadn't left his side the entire night.

Even Charles and Caroline had retired, the latter being forced to leave, as Charles needed a ride home. Elizabeth hadn't gone with them. Instead she just sat there, silently judging him, the bloody insolent little...

_No, no. _His brain whispered. _You like her, remember? She's your mate. A female mate. It's totally possible to have a platonic relationship between opposite genders. There doesn't need to be any unrequited feelings involved, no siree..._

He downed another shot, licked the salt sprinkled on the back of his hand, and sucked on a lime wedge. The shudder that ran through him was so horrendous, it made his face contort into something a hyena might make, if it was sicking up it's dinner. He jumped when a cool hand, placed itself on the bridge of his back and he turned to see it was Elizabeth.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concern marring her features.

"I-I need to go home..."

"Okay then."

Disregarding his personal boundaries, Elizabeth started patting the area near his groin. Darcy jumped again. No, she was just trying to locate his wallet, but it was still too close. She didn't find it on his right side, so she jumped to the other, and frisked through his other pocket where she had more luck. Why was she touching him, when hours before, he'd regretted making advances on her? She was teasing him. She was playing a game, just like the rest of them...

He shook his head again, trying not to go down the bitter road.

Whoa. She was just a mate, trying to help out.

Elizabeth paid the bartender with the cash in his wallet, then also nosily sifted through, until she found his driving license. She appeared to be staring at his photo, which was roughly taken eight years ago when he was a teenager, very intently, but he couldn't be sure. She'd been so upset earlier, and now she looked anything but.

Instead, she looked irritatingly clear-headed.

"Come on..." She placed a hand on his arm, trying to tug him away from the bar. Darcy stumbled over his feet, and crashed into the empty bar stool next to him. This earned a few grumbles from the patrons of the bar.

"Sorry, sorry," Elizabeth apologised to them, and back-peddled, ducking under one of Darcy's arms and securing it over her opposite shoulder. She gripped around his waist, and used a great deal of energy to maneuver him out of the door, and the waiting minicab she'd called fifteen minutes earlier. He sprawled out onto the backseat, unconscious, and she pushed one of his legs aside, to sit at the opposite corner.

"Had a bit much too much to drink, has he?" The minicab driver asked her, watching the both of them through his rearview mirror. Elizabeth nodded grimly, and told him the address she'd memorised from Darcy's driving license. The driver was clearly in a chatty mood tonight, so he kept talking, hitting a home run in a few of his observations.

"That's nice you're looking after him." He executed a left-hand turn. "You don't know how many pals I see, both as drunk as each other, stumbling at all hours after dark. Society is going to hell in a hand-basket. More people should buddy up when drinking, and when they do, to do it responsibly. Do you know how much money is wasted by the NHS for alcohol related emergencies alone? _Millions. _Personally, I believe the taxpayer shouldn't foot the bill..."

After a while, Elizabeth just started to tune him out.

_Why _was she looking after him? By all rights, their night should've ended when he attempted to kiss her and she'd turned her cheek. But as he turned to go back inside, she remembered how soft his lips had been. So feather-light, it could've been a butterfly landing on it's perch. Why had he been so gentle? It would've been easier to condemn him, if he'd forcefully snapped her chin back, and attacked her, like someone else had done in the past.

But he hadn't.

And the hatred in her, just turned to disquiet.

Maybe there was some lines he just didn't dare to cross.

Elizabeth snorted, and noticed they were driving slower down a residential street, almost like the driver was looking for the correct house. In the dark, it was hard to understand the impressive detached houses sitting at the end of their drives, but she caught glints. Pruned hedges. White-washed exteriors. Gleaming windows, that sparkled under the synthetic streetlight. They all looked like five, six or even seven bedroom properties. And Darcy lived in one of _them? _

"Wake-up." She shook Darcy's shoulder. "We're here."

"Urgfgh-" He made no sense.

"Where are your keys?"

"Mmpfph-"

Sighing, she asked the driver to wait, and went to knock on the correct door. She felt reassured by a light shining in the hallway, that not everyone was asleep. A couple of minutes later, a sleepy young girl in her dressing robe, and pajama bottoms opened the door, keeping it on the latch.

"Who are you?" She asked, trying to sound territorial.

"And you're...?" Elizabeth stalled.

"None of your beeswax," she snapped, as Elizabeth shoved her foot through the door, lest she slammed it close. That would be a travesty!

"I've got Will with me," Elizabeth pleaded. "He's a bit worse for wear, but I think I know who you are... You're the girl who answered the phone, when I called this morning, right? Georgiana?"

At the mention of her brother's name, and Elizabeth placing herself as that anxious caller from earlier, Georgiana reverted back to her bashful self. Colour flooded into her cheeks, as she fumbled with the locks and wrenched the door wide open. "Come in! Come in!" She said, wrapping her arms around her body. "I was wondering when my brother would come back. He said he'd catch-up with me, if I was still awake when he got back, so I waited up."

"That's sweet." Elizabeth knew how it felt like to be a sister. Once.

Turning back to the cab, she saw Darcy had half-fallen out, trying to follow her. She thought nothing of retreating to his side, and grabbing him under the arms. At this rate, she was going to know every ridge, every curve, and every square detail of his back, through his shirt, just by handling him alone. Did he have to shiver, every time she touched his spine?

"Come on," she cajoled.

It took thirty minutes for her to help him up to his bed, and by the time she came down exhausted, Georgiana was merrily waving the driver off from the comfort of her doorway. Elizabeth nearly tripped in her haste to get down the last few steps.

"What are you doing?" She cried.

"Oh," Georgiana turned. "I paid him, you don't have to worry-"

"No, I needed him to get back to my flat!"

Georgiana put a hand over her mouth. "Oops?"

"Call him back! No, I'll call him back -" Elizabeth patted herself down as the other girl looked on in alarm. "God, I've lost the card! Do you have the number of another taxi rank around here -" She looked around, like she hoped to see a copy of the _Yellow Pages. _Georgiana hesistated, before making another suitable offer.

"Why don't you spend the night...here? On the sofa?"

"That's mental-"

"You will be quite safe here. And it would save you money. Will can take you home in the morning, after he's sobered up."

"It'll be afternoon, before that happens!" Elizabeth stated.

"Well, you can take his car."

"Really?" Elizabeth made a disbelieving noise.

"Yes. He won't need it till the afternoon like you said."

"Oh, I don't know.."

"Go on. It'll just be for a couple of hours. And I'm grateful you're such a nice PA. The previous one, would be stretched out on the bed beside him, just as drunk or stoned. At times I couldn't figure out if she was a PA, or a cheap tart for hire."

"Georgiana..."

"My brother is a good guy underneath. Even our housekeeper will tell you. It's just that he hasn't been the same since dad died five years ago."

The topic of conversation was too close to home. Elizabeth wordlessly looked at the potted plant in the front hall, and tried not to dredge up memories from _her_ past. At least, Will still had Georgiana, so no sympathy there. What did she have? Charlotte. And if Charlotte decided to get married, and leave her, then she'd not even have that. Georgiana yet again indicated towards a room, that was further down the hallway.

It turned out to be a living room, warm and soft. Everything was mismatched, like an older couple had lived here once, and they liked their particulars. The armchair and sofa, were striped, and were clearly over two decades old. The fireplace, had a byzantine feel to it, with solid slate and marble and a roaring fire that was now reduced to embers.

The thing that clogged her throat most, were two pairs of slippers, a his and hers set, propped against the legs of a carved wood, coffee table. They were close to falling apart, one touch, and it'd split apart at the seams.

Without a word, she instinctively knew who they belonged too.

"Okay," she found herself saying. "Okay, I'll stay the night."

.

.

Sleep came naturally and easily, which was surprising, considering she didn't like nodding off in strange places. But the living room had been sold to her exactly right. The moment she clapped eyes on it, a warmth had spread across her chest and it made her heart ache. It was a privilege to spend a night in a room, that was full of character and whispers of a hidden past.

She was the first person in the household to wake up, and stretched, noticing there were a few frames on the mantelpiece. Wandering closer, she saw pictures of Georgiana and Will as children, their parents on their wedding day and many, many happy memories together. She picked up a picture of the four of them, lined up in front of a pyramid. They had traveled a lot. Going to places like Egypt, and India and Singapore. Maybe that's why Darcy now worked in the travel industry, trying to recreate those memories for other families.

"I really like that picture," a voice said softly behind her, and Elizabeth nearly had a heart attack.

With a clunk, she put it down and turned to face the person who'd caught her out.

It was Darcy. Wearing a white nightshirt and dark bottoms. He looked devilishly handsome and good enough to eat. Elizabeth tried to forget, how many times she'd touched him the night before. But she couldn't help replaying it over and over again, as he prowled closer...

"My mum, my dad..." he said, staring at the picture with a longing smile. "The whole family."

"D-Do you sometimes wish you could build a time machine? So you can go back..." Elizabeth had spoken without thinking, and now blushed heavily for it. "Stupid question..."

"No. I think it's perfectly fine. Yeah, it's nice in theory...but I'll probably just mess up the timeline at the end of the day." He grinned.

"You must miss them very much."

"Yeah, all the time. But what about you?" He gestured at the wall. "Don't you ever wish you could go back?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It would be, because I would murder. Without fail."

Darcy looked at her with a slight frown. There was a darkness to her, he hadn't really taken notice of before. She wasn't infallible. That perfectly crafted veneer had so many chinks in it, at once, he could see she was damaged. Something in her past, had terribly affected her. Whilst his childhood has always been idyllic, hers hadn't been. Did he dare to keep tapping at it? To see if she'd shatter and let all the darkness pour out?

The idea enthralled him, as much as it made him wary.

Not yet. He wasn't dressed for it.

_Ha, a joke! _Darcy thought. _I actually made a joke in my head. What next? A whole stand-up routine?_

After a beat, she asked, "Aren't you going to ask who I want to kill so bad?"

Darcy began to shake his head, when a horrible idea took precedent. What if, when she'd been younger...

"D-Did someone," he stuttered, "When you were y-young, make you do things you didn't w-want to do? L-Like were you m-mol -"

"God, no." Elizabeth stared at him very hard. "You think I was molested? I admit, I had a shady boyfriend in the past, who wouldn't take no for an answer, but I punched him in the face, before he did anything worth talking to a therapist about. I can hold my ground, you know."

Darcy blinked, enjoying this fiery side to her. Somewhere underneath, lay a steel core. It was just a shame she didn't show it more often, because it made him like her even more. A little bit of scratching, and she was opening up to him...which was a glorious thing to see.

"So yesterday..." he ventured. "You don't want to kill me over what happened?"

"No. Jeez, get over yourself."

"Scouts honour, I won't try anything like that again," he said earnestly. "I mean, unless you ask me to -"

"I won't."

His mouth twisted into an amused smile. "Are we..._bantering?"_

"No. It's all in your head."

"We totally are. Now you've shown this side to me, I don't think I would want you to go back. To how you were before. This side is too...heartwarming. And it makes my heart happy." He grabbed his chest, and did a little hop forward. Ignoring his playfulness, which was amazing considering he must've woken with the mother of all hangovers, Elizabeth set her shoulders back and walked to the door.

Just as she reached the front of the house, she called back, "Well? Do you want to grab breakfast or not?"

"Can we walk, like that day I came to your coffee place?"

"Unless you want to fly," Elizabeth deadpanned.

And walk they did. All the way to the end of the road, before Darcy ran back, because he'd forgotten he was still wearing the nightclothes he'd pulled on, sometime during the night.

_Men._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: I am dealing with mature themes, that some people might be too young to understand. But if you're over 15 (or are a very mature 12 year old), I think you should be okay! There's a reason why I made Elizabeth so introverted, and Darcy extroverted from the very beginning. It's so I can strip multiple layers, and reveal light and shade, and all the good stuff between.**

**Lastly thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. You were ace :) Especially you, StoryPirate! :D And JRB, what do you think?**


	7. Then Lunch and Dinner Too

"Lizzie?" Charlotte called, just having finished her shower and moving towards the living room. "We're nearly out of toilet paper, have you realised? Is it your turn to get it, or mine?"

Nobody answered.

"Lizzie?" Charlotte stuck her head out of the door, staring down the hallway towards Lizzie's closed bedroom door. "Why aren't you answering? Have you left already?"

She tried to rack her brains from the night before, but she'd gone to bed early with a pounding headache, so didn't know what time Lizzie had got in. If she had, she'd been awfully quiet about it. The few times Charlotte had got up, to go the toilet, she hadn't heard a thing from Lizzie's room.

"Lizzie?" She queried again, this time right outside the door.

She lifted up her hand to knock, before letting it free-fall to grab hold of the knob. Inside, the room was immaculate like always. The covers of the bed were turned, leaving it to air, and the pillows were fluffed and propped against the headboard. Charlotte wandered in, heading mindlessly to Elizabeth's calender lying on her desk, and flicked nosily through a few pages.

Just after New Years, on January 3rd, Elizabeth had circled the date with extra force.

Weird.

Was she reminding herself to get up, and take down all the Christmas decorations? She probably followed that superstition, where all decorations had to be taken down before January 6th, or it was bad luck. The probability Elizabeth was spending the night somewhere else didn't even enter Charlotte's head, until she heard a key turning in the lock.

"Lizzie!" Charlotte rushed back into the hallway, hugging herself. "When did you get up? I've been -"

Her mouth snapped shut.

Elizabeth had been caught red-handed, sneaking in with a man.

Not just any man, but a fine specimen, who was dressed in a black wifebeater and matching jeans, with piercing blue eyes and a transfixed smile on his face. He appeared to be staring at Lizzie, but she was staring directly down the hallway at...

"Charlotte!" Lizzie was holding a large cup of shop bought coffee. "Sorry, did we disturb you coming in?"

Charlotte gaped. Lizzie was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday morning, to go to that fancy hotel where the conference was being held... Why, she'd even borrowed that blouse from her the other day! She looked disheveled and tired, but the man just froze on the spot and hissed, "_You didn't tell me someone else would be here! Now, I feel like a dick for coming round and not bringing extra coffee!"_

"She can have mine," Elizabeth shot a look over her shoulder. "I didn't buy it for me anyway."

"Well, if you're sure."

He raised his eyebrows, and took a ridiculously long slurp out of his cup. Then he closed his eyes and tried to convey ecstatic pleasure. Glaring at him, she held out the coffee she'd just bought as peace offering towards Charlotte.

"I didn't come home last night," she looked contrite. "You weren't up all night worrying, were you?"

Darcy spluttered.

"Just who is he?" Charlotte demanded shrilly, jabbing her finger at him. "You never told me you were doing one night-stands! Where did you pick this hustler from? From Toni &amp; Guy?"

This time, Darcy spat out his entire mouthful. And interestingly - he went a shade of pink.

"Huh," he muttered under his breath.

"No." Elizabeth turned an even brighter pink. "He's my boss!"

"_ELIZABETH!"_ Charlotte cried. "_You're sleeping with your boss?!"_

Her outrage died away, and a tumultuous silence filled the flat. Darcy looked stony-faced, and just put his cup heavily to the side, on top of a hall cabinet. After grabbing coffee and muffins together, Elizabeth had suggested they head back to his house, so they could give one of the three cups bought to Georgiana, who still hadn't awoken yet, thereby giving them a chance to pick up his keys so he could drive Elizabeth back to her flat. At no point during the drive, had she mentioned a middle-aged flatmate (he was exaggerating), with a towel wrapped around her head coming out to greet them. Or that Elizabeth was really saving her cup, for this woman.

All she said was she wanted a quick shower and after, it would make sense if they headed to the office together.

Ten minutes max, she'd said.

_Lies._

"No, she's not sleeping with me," Darcy said loudly. "Don't you know I believe in celibacy before marriage?"

Keeping a straight face, despite how much he wanted to laugh, he turned to Elizabeth.

"I'll be waiting in the car. If you're not there in fifteen, I'm leaving."

.

.

The gasmen had come and gone, but still a bad omen lingered in the air. Oblivious to what was waiting for them on the third floor, Elizabeth punched in the number, and fell back, so she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Darcy. Well more shoulder to bicep, as he was taller. He was humming under his breath, looking pleased with himself.

He caught her looking at him from the corner of his eye, and turned to smile at her.

She smiled tentatively back-

The lift doors opened with a _whoosh._

"Ah, you're back! And just in time!" Charles had been standing outside, going through a file with another employee. He raised his head, looking strained. "I was just about to come down, and drag you up here myself...especially after what Jonah's done!"

The person standing beside Charles, a young man, had gone white at the sight of Darcy. He moved to walk off, but Charles grabbed him by the back of his hooded jumper, and dragged him back to where he was standing before, at which point he whimpered, and looked at the floor.

Elizabeth stepped out of the lift after her boss.

"What's wrong?" She looked between the pair of them.

"_Everything," _Charles said through gritted teeth. "Elizabeth, do you remember getting a charming message from a Ms. Moira Banks about two days ago?"

Elizabeth looked thunder-stricken. "Oh, that woman -!"

"Well, _that woman... _don't take it to heart, Elizabeth, it wasn't your fault - has taken our silence so personally, she has given scathing reviews about our service, on various websites across the internet. Jonah here -" He shook the poor guy by the lapels "-so keen to defend our honour, thought nothing of hacking into several servers and _deleting _the reviews completely."

"Blimey," Darcy said, staring at Jonah. "I didn't know you cared..."

"If _anybody _finds out he did this," Charles enunciated carefully. "Especially TripAdvisor, which is a big corporation nobody stands a chance against, comes to learn some pesky trainee from _Lambton &amp; Co_ has breached their security walls, and potentially accessed details of _millions of users, _we'll be slapped by a lawsuit so big, our company will be liquidised in an instant. All the investments we made. All our livelihoods... _gone._"

_"_What have you done?" Darcy asked in dawning horror.

Jonah threw his arms up around his head like he was expecting to be hit. "Please...it was a mistake! I didn't leave a trace! Please, you've gotta believe me!"

Elizabeth saw Darcy's hand clenching into a slow fist.

"Get out," he said, low and murderous. "Get out of my fucking sight before I make you."

Elizabeth ogled him, never having seen this side of him before. She was half in awe, seeing him throbbing in rage and close to bursting, when he usually played a light-hearted version of himself. A thrill that had nothing to do with the situation went up her spine. Is this how he normally defended things that mattered to him? How would it feel to be the _person _to invoke that passion...?

She shivered, cursing herself for letting her heart flutter.

Charles released his handful of Jonah, who promptly ran for the stairs, looking terrified.

"We can still salvage it," Charles said. "We need to ring this woman and offer our heartfelt apologies, alongside a full refund, and maybe a complimentary holiday somewhere. In the meantime, we need to swear everyone at the office to secrecy about Jonah's...hacking abilities. I believe him, when he said, he entered and left all these mainframes without a trace. So as long as no-one blabs - we should be fine!"

Darcy put his fist to his mouth. "I should've punched him when I had the chance."

Charles turned desperately to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth!" He gave her a shaky smile. "Nothing like being put to the test, eh? How about I give you the morning to prepare your bedside manners and research some good deals, and then this afternoon you call Ms. Banks, right? A woman for a woman! Darcy, come with me." He guided Will firmly by the shoulder, to a meeting room, that had transparent walls. It was clear, the entire team besides Elizabeth and Jonah had gathered inside, to tackle this problem.

Further along, on Elizabeth's desk, the answer machine blinked, reminding her of rushing up and pressing the button...of hearing the swear words and accusations of bumming...

Elizabeth flushed.

Anything but this.

.

.

As the clock neared two, Elizabeth stared hungrily into the meeting room. For the past hour, hazy images of sandwich rolls juxtaposed instead of heads, danced in front of her eyes. It didn't help, most of them had eaten, save for a certain someone, who was flicking through his accounts savagely. His scare with Jonah, had made him demand for every spreadsheet on and around the matter, like he was scared someone else hadn't been doing their job properly. After all... Moira had claimed the incorrect amount had been charged from her bank. Higher than the one on her invoice, because no customers would complain if it was lower.

She narrowed her eyes and came to a decision.

"Will?" She knocked on the door. "I'm going down to the deli. Do you want anything?"

He stretched his arms, and pushed away from the table.

"I'll come with you," he said, shortly.

Elizabeth stuttered. "It's-It's okay...just tell me what you waaa..."

He gave her look.

"I'll just be a tick, okay?"

She had to wait, as he rubbed his brow like he was utterly defeated, before he looked up and smiled wryly. "Let's go."

They took the lift, Darcy sagging against the back wall, right next to Elizabeth. In fact, their sides were so tightly pressed together, Elizabeth wondered if she was propping him up. All concentration appeared to have fled his face, and he now looked vacant, following Elizabeth out into the foyer, like he was grateful someone else was making decisions for a change. A man with a professional looking camera was at the receptionist's desk - arguing.

Darcy's willingness to take a backseat continued as they got to the deli.

"What do you want?" She asked, staring up at the specials of the day. "Chicken mayo or tuna salad?"

"I dunno. You choose."

"Coke or Sprite?"

"Whatever."

She sighed and ordered him a Sprite. As she was waiting to pay, purse in hand, two arms crept around her neck, and Darcy sunk his chin onto her shoulder with a relieved sigh. It was a total boyfriend move. The ones guys do, when they come up behind a girl and hug her, like they're about to watch fireworks or something. Even the cashier behind the counter was looking at them slyly.

"What are you doing?" She hissed.

"Sssh..." he murmured. "..wanna sleep."

"And you think I'm the best person to fall asleep on?"

He was nuzzling into her like she was a cushion.

"..such a soft place..." he crooned, eyes closed. "...To rest my head..."

"Here you are!" The cashier pushed over the tray with their wrapped sandwiches and bottled drinks with more enthusiasm than necessary. "Why don't you two lovebirds sit down?"

_Oh, no, no, no, no..._

Scowling, Elizabeth grabbed the tray and walked towards the nearest empty table, with Darcy still clinging to her back like a koala bear. She was earning a lot of jealous and fascinated looks from the other customers, which she didn't like. Ignoring them, she put the tray down and tried to twist out of his grasp. For someone "sleepwalking", he remained awfully strong. When that didn't work, she sort of backed up to an opposing chair, so his feet hit the legs and he had no choice but to sit down. Elizabeth nearly tumbled onto his lap, but she was so quick to put space between them, gravity didn't have a chance to win.

Instead, she sat down in _her _chair and slammed a bottle of Sprite in front of him.

He jolted awake.

"Erghfph-" He saw the food, ripping the wrapper open in an instant. "I'm so _hungry."_

"I'm not surprised after that spectacle," she snapped.

"Wha' I do?" He looked innocently up at her, having inhaled half by now. "You look...red."

"I'm going back. Enjoy your meal - it's on me."

"Hey, wait!"

Infuriatingly, he got up after her as she picked up her lunch and went to leave. With that same dogged determination, he chased her as she started running back to the office. Not so much that it was obvious, but when she rounded the corner, it was undeniable she broke out into a sprint. Darcy panted, following seconds later as she disappeared into their building, jostling past a few people standing at the entrance with cameras. There was a flash as she streaked by.

"Hey - stop!"

She stuck her tongue out at him, as she got into the lift first, and hurriedly pressed the close doors button. Darcy was still outside! Had the receptionist just electronically locked the doors? Hahahaha...

"Elizabeth."

Charles was waiting for her when the doors opened again at her required floor, it might as well have been a scene from a couple of hours ago. This time there was no Jonah or Darcy, to buffer his grave but sympathetic expression. "You don't have to call the woman. I'll do it myself -"

"No!" Elizabeth said, breathing hard. "I've got this."

"You sure?"

"I can handle a bit of abuse."

"Atta girl." A ghost of a smile flitted over his face.

Despite her heart thumping in her chest, Elizabeth pasted a pointed smile on her face and dialed the number, she'd written down before she went to lunch, sitting down behind her desk. As Darcy managed to catch up, and more and more people started to flock around her, she realised they had all been waiting for this moment. The moment she tried to soothe an angry customer. Jesus. Did they always leave this to the PA?

Chewing her lip, she pressed speakerphone.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring -_

"Hello?"

"Hello," Elizabeth answered automatically. "This is Elizabeth Bennet. From...Lambton &amp; Co."

There was a slight snarl from the other end. "What do you fucking want?"

"I would like to apologise to you about the delay of returning your phone-call. We're not making any excuses, and would like to reimburse you-"

"Too late." Moira said smugly, Irish accent strong. "I've already contacted the media."

"The media -?"

"My daddy works for _The Trubine. _He was very interested to hear how wronged I felt, and didn't hesitate to send an interviewer from a famous tabloid to hear my small but very distressing story. Look outside. I wouldn't be surprised to hear it's crawling with journos..._assholes._"

Charles lunged forward, and pulled the cord out of the telephone.

"David," he said, face stark. "Go down and check if it's true."

Nobody barely said a word, hanging in a pendulous void, waiting for David to come back up. He emerged some minutes later, having taken the lift down, before taking it up again. Even from here, they could see the numbers, _0,1,2..._Ping! _3! _The naked panic on his face, galvanized everyone into action - they swore and paced and even bent over, at the futility of it all. Imagine! A spoiled little girl, running to her daddy, and now..._this?_

"What's going down there?" Charles asked.

"Sarah's barricaded the doors-" David was referring to the receptionist. "So nobody can get in...or out."

"Call the police!" A guy that could be Jonah's double, said. "This isn't fair!"

"Well, guys," said Charles grimly. "It looks like we're ordering a takeaway if this is going to take us through the night."

.

.

.

**A/N: Drama in the workplace :P Remember, Moira? She was that charming caller from the end of chapter 4. Sorry for the longish wait, exams have been killing me, but I promise to update more diligently next time! **

**JRB...my fav trope is enemies falling in love with each of course :) Writing this whole BFF thing to me is alien, but god, even I was all for it, when I was writing that deli scene...**


	8. Being Bugged

Two nights she'd been denied the pleasures of her bed, and it wasn't getting any easier. At least last time, she'd been surrounded by the nuances of an old married couple and had some pictures to look at, as a nice waking up present. This time? She had an awful crick in her neck, from lying in the same position for too long. Which, was coincidentally with her head pressed against the desk.

This was getting ridiculous.

Some of the other staff had refused to the spend the night here, and had forged out into the paparazzi, batting them away with bags and umbrellas. Charles and Darcy? They, along with another two, had remained behind, like they were waiting for the storm to pass.

Elizabeth dropped to her knees and crawled to the window.

Never would she have considered this undignified position in normality, but aching all over can addle one's mind. Mercifully, the crowd outside had now thinned out. Probably, wanting to chase other bigger and better stories, instead of obeying an old man who'd called in a favour for his daughter being slighted. The more hardcore people still lingered, tapping their cigarettes outside the window, from their parked cars.

She would have to risk it.

Darcy was asleep in the transparent meeting room, like her, with his head pressed against the desk. There was a biro mark on his cheek, and he looked unexpectedly relaxed and youthful. A complete opposite to the night before, when he'd been ranting and raving, and pacing and telephoning. She stared a tick longer, before realising she was the subject of scrutiny herself.

Charles was already awake, and he was staring directly at her, with a phone pressed to his ear.

She hadn't seen him standing close by to Will.

His eyes probed her, cold.

She'd never seen him look so much his sister, at that moment, that it brought a nervous rack of shivers down her spine. He mouthed, _"Where are you going?" _Flummoxed, Elizabeth pointed out the window, as she picked up her bag with the hope he'll grant her that small mercy. Charles broke off, to agree with whatever the person he was speaking to was saying, and then found Elizabeth again with his eyes. _"You can have the rest of the day off," _he mouthed at her.

Thrilled, Elizabeth scuttled towards the lifts.

She made it all the way to the foyer, and the doors leading to her escape, before she came to a startling realisation as she tugged at the handles. They were still electronically locked, and there was no receptionist behind the desk. Bugger. She closed her eyes, and tried to remember where Sarah was standing, when the lift doors were closing yesterday, as she was running away from Darcy. In her imagination, the ghost of Sarah stood close to the computer, with a hand disappearing under the...

_Bingo!_

Elizabeth's eyes popped open with a smile and she casually strolled over, crouching down to find the correct button. As she heard a short buzzing noise, she knew she'd hit the jackpot. Hopefully no-one outside would bother her, and she could jog away in peace...

Halfway back, and the buzzing noise stopped.

Elizabeth froze mid-step.

_No._

_Don't tell me I'm locked in again!_

She'd been too slow. She would have to inject more pace next time.

Seriously hoping no- one outside was looking in, Elizabeth repeated her trip to the button and didn't hesitate this time. The second she heard the buzzer go, she was off, sprinting like her life depended on it, and she got to the door in record time! Flinging it open in relief, she barreled right into someone's arms, a person who'd horridly put his hands up as a gesture to thwart her, but they went down in a barrel of arms and legs, with a bit of screaming along the way.

Mainly from Elizabeth.

"_Ow!" _Elizabeth yelled, feeling her hair catch in something. Like a demon, she clawed at the thing entangled in her hair, not listening to the string of curses and cries urging her to be still.

"Chrissake - stay still! This is expensive gear -"

"Gerioff!" Elizabeth said, not wanting to wear a camera strap in her hair like an accessory.

"Quit thrashing, and maybe I will!"

"Do it quicker!"

She felt like she was being scalped, as she lurched to her knees, before the pressure released abruptly. Clambering up and dusting her knees, she noticed the man next to her doing the same, as he tucked his camera hanging around his neck, protectively into his jacket. The other hand swept back his free-hanging hair from his eyes, which was a marked contrast from the ponytail he was sporting, when she'd seen him last.

"You!" Elizabeth spat, incensed, in no mood for games. "Wickham." She remembered his name.

She distastefully looked him up and down, before spinning on her heel.

"Wait." He hurried up to grab her arm, but thinking better of it, just followed her half a pace behind. "What's changed?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know we'd struck up enough of a bond for you to ask that question."

"Snarky too."

Elizabeth buttoned her lips, and continued on her path.

"I know you remember me." He dogged her footsteps, almost to the point he nearly tripped her up.

"Well duh, didn't I greet you by name?"

"So, what's changed?" He insisted. "Our first introduction certainly had no antagonism involved, and the only critique you could give it, was that it was cut too short. Is that why you're mad? That once we got inside the venue, I left without saying goodbye? And you were still prattling into the darkness, thinking I was by your side?"

That wasn't even the start of it.

"_No," _Elizabeth said, thinking he was a great, big berk. "It's more like I'm _disappointed. _Because our company is close to ruins, and you're one of the vultures circling around, waiting for us to go bust. I mean, I'm not claiming to know you," she shot a sideways evil stare. "But my first impression of you, although brief, was much more pleasant."

George stopped so suddenly, Elizabeth sensed it straightaway.

She turned around, despite herself and saw he was holding her bag with the tips of his fingers, close to scraping the floor. He had a pained look on his face, and he appeared to wilt before her very eyes. Feeling guilty, but brushing the feeling aside, she strode back to him and tugged _her _bag out of his grip, where she'd probably dropped it earlier when both of them crashed into each other. He let it go without further ceremony.

"Thank you." She nodded at him. "For retrieving my bag."

"S-so..." he sounded, strangled. "I suppose Darcy's told you, has he?"

_Don't ask...don't pry..._

"About what?" She frowned.

"All the _lies _he's concocted about me."

"He's lying about you to people?" She asked, concerned. Darcy would never sink that low...would he?

George laughed bitterly. "It's all he ever does. Here's a word of advice, Liz - I can call you Liz, right? - Don't listen to a word he says. He's conniving, two faced and a complete bastard."

"He's - He's not that bad when you get to know him," Elizabeth replied, miffed.

"Oh? Says who?"

"Well, his sister for one."

At the mention of Georgiana, Wickham clamped his lips shut, and he turned a deathly white. Interesting. As she watched, he shot her a wounded look and scurried back the way he came, like she was a plague-carrier, and he was frightened of catching it. At least, she'd gotten her bag back before he fled.

"Whatever," Elizabeth said to herself. "Who needs this drama?"

.

.

"You haven't told anyone, right?" Darcy urged her down the line. She wondered how he'd react, if he knew she'd stripped down to her a bra, and was about to jump into the shower, before he called. Unzipping her skirt, she wriggled out of it and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Womanly curves contained in black, modest underwear. In fact, the condensation in the room, was making it cling to her skin, so her nipples were pebbling through. Blushing, she broke her gaze, and blinked up at the ceiling, at the light fixture.

Remind her again, why she'd brought her bag into the bathroom, to rest on top of the towel hanger?

Oh yeah. Force of habit.

She sighed, waiting for him to elaborate. In the meantime, she turned on the shower, and stuck her hand out, waiting for the temperature to adjust. Charlotte better have not used up all the hot water...

"About the big secret we don't want to get out," he hissed, probably thinking she was stuck in a torrential downpour. Not that he sounded like he cared. Bastard.

"About the whole hacking thing?" Elizabeth said absent-mindedly. "Yeah, I won't tell a soul."

"Not, even that brown-nosed flatmate of yours?"

"Especially not her." She tried to allay his fears. The bathroom was steaming up.

"Good," he sighed down the phone. "Then we might just ride through this. We can handle this Moira Banks or whatever, but if anyone outside the agency, catches wind of Jonah's little _excursion _shall we say, then we're screwed for. I'm thinking of getting everyone to sign a confidentiality agreement. Well, one more to the ones they've already signed up to anyway."

"That's a good idea."

"You think?" He sounded flattered.

Elizabeth wrinkled up her nose and didn't respond.

"Anyway..." he appeared to be pouting. "Where were you this morning? I woke up, and you were..._gone."_

His reliance on her was beginning to get worrying. She'd worked for him, not even four or five days, and she'd eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner with him yesterday. Not to mention, she ate sushi with him the day before yesterday, so yes, that technically counted as dinner. Why had he taken to her so fiercely? Why did he appear reluctant of _letting her go? _

One of her fingers accidentally brushed the tip of her nipple, and she was so primed, so ready, it took a great deal working of muscles not to cry out. Why was she viewing his attachment to her, with something akin to..._satisfaction__?_

She was glad the distance was between them now. It was good she'd walked out on him, without waking him this morning. This reliance needed to stop within the walls of the office.

"Didn't you talk to Charles?" She asked, brusquely. "He gave me a day off."

"Oh, did he now?" He said testily. "Despite working for yours truly_?_ Shouldn't it be _me_ calling the shots?"

".What do you want me to do? To drop everything and come running over?"

"That doesn't sound bad," his voice became silky. "Tell me, Elizabeth...are you in the shower right now?"

Her eyes widened to twice their size, and she spluttered. The next thing she knew, she was frantically pressing the disconnect button and throwing her phone somewhere behind the toilet cistern. Oh, that didn't sound good. _Clunk. _She winced at the noise.

But still...what the hell was that?

Where did he learn to lower his voice attractively like that?

Elizabeth stripped the last remainder of her undergarments, and jumped into the shower, hoping the pounding water would drill the conversation out of her head. She really needed to teach him a lesson. For the rest of the day, it would be in their best interests if he couldn't get hold of her. So that meant switching off her phone, and taking a long rambling walk around the city, so they could both forget each other for a while.

After several minutes, her shower finished and she stepped out, toweling her hair.

Inside her bag, she didn't notice a little red light flashing.

Recording everything.

.

.

Darcy staggered down the steps, and fell to his knees. Charles was crouching beside him, shaking his shoulder, lips moving...but his words rushed past in a blur, and it sounded like a gale, a hurricane threatening to tear apart his organs and bury him, kill him...

Besides his knees was a newspaper.

It wasn't the front page, or the next few pages after that, but on page seven, in a little box, was a story relating to their agency. The tagline read: _Hacking scandal on the verge of destroying small, family business. _Except it wasn't family was it? After his dad died, he'd started this company in his dad's honour, but it was Charles who he became shareholders with. They were in this together. Brothers, even though they weren't related by blood.

"How - How did they find out?" Darcy croaked.

"It's mere speculation." Charles was looking desperate. Close to fainting. "They don't know anything. Look at this flimsy article, barely five lines..."

"But they _know. _Someone must've told them."

"Nobody could've told them!"

"How do you know?" Darcy was shaking all over. "They couldn't have pulled this out from nowhere...someone's squealed..." Suddenly, fists formed. "I bet it's _Jonah, _that sniveling dick! I bet he sang like a fucking canary."

"Jonah wouldn't do that...he wouldn't risk prison..."

"_Then how can they guess and be so fucking close?"_

It was the following morning, and the press had got their story. Well, most of them had reported on Lambton &amp; Co's bad customer relation skills, but this one..._this one _seemed to have sniffed out a meatier story, though it was nowhere near good enough for a bump-up. Charles was right. The person who'd written it, didn't have much to go on...just that there was a hacking scandal possibly involved...but who? Where? None of these crucial details were mentioned.

Darcy straightened his shoulders, hearing himself speak, and marveling at how composed he sounded.

"This article was written by George Wickham. Somebody's been talking to him. Get everybody round, and start interrogating to who actually spoke with him in the past few days. Then we'll fire that person on the spot..."

His mind was racing ahead.

"After, we need to close this company. Just for a week or so, whilst I get to the bottom of this and for the media frenzy to die down. It's not big yet, and I don't want to get to the stage where it gets any bigger. Several independent auditors have to come in, to go through everything meticulously, so every quarrel we've had in the past can be settled. We're going to be whiter than white. They'll have nothing to pin us on."

Charles quit rubbing Darcy's shoulders up and down.

"And what are you doing to do?"

Darcy had his answer ready, he'd been searching for tickets all night.

"Well, I'm not going to be sitting around here, waiting for auditors to come in and clear off. No. Do you remember that week long trip I had planned at the end of April? To St. John's Island? It's a place I went to as a kid, nice place. Well, I'm going there tomorrow. Might as well scope out the place, if we're going to include it on our website later on next year."

Charles gaped at him.

"B-But," he wheezed. "Who are you going with -?"

"I have a person in mind," Darcy said darkly.

.

.

**AN: OMG. I'm sooo excited. IrishJessy, that little prediction I told you about, is coming true huh? About some island fun? Omg...this is so fun to write, I don't know why I love it so much...**

**Thanks to the anonymous reviews too! Guest, JRB and Tanya. Tanya...I have firsthand experience living in England (still do), so it's so cool embracing including all the British-isms :P**

**Please reviewwww.**


	9. Green-Eyed Caroline

His fingers were cramping over the keyboard, when someone rapped on the front door. "Georgie," he called, knowing it would annoy her. "Get that for me, will you?"

Somewhere deep within the house, came an impetuous "NO!"

The person rapped harder.

Darcy, ignoring whoever was at the door, bit his lower lip and rubbed his chin, staring at the laptop screen braced against a pile of books on the kitchen table. Elizabeth hadn't bothered answering his calls since this morning, so he'd been warning her in his voice mails ever since. He had to go around next morning to see what was up. Guilty conscience, perhaps?

"URGH!" He heard Georgiana yell, in typical teenage fashion, before she stomped down the stairs and marched across the hall. She was probably going to trip over the suitcase he'd left by the radiator earlier, as he'd heard it falling over half an hour ago, but hadn't bothered straightening it up to it's former position. True to form, he heard the two of them meet.

"Georgiana, suitcase. Suitcase, Georgiana," he muttered to himself, with dry sarcasm as Georgiana screamed obscenities, and hopped around, clutching her big toe.

"ARGH! YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME!"

"Yeah, to get your vision tested." He didn't dare say it any louder, lest she bust his chops.

Scraping back his chair, he felt the muscles around his shoulders clench uncomfortably like they were about to spasm, so he stretched his arms out, high above his head and gave such a loud yawn, that an approaching Caroline looked extremely predatory as she saw a glimpse of his taut stomach, begging to be touched.

God - it was so firm.

Darcy caught her looking, and lowered his arms, smiling at her unwittingly. Instantly Caroline narrowed her eyes, irritated at being caught out, but she wanted the charade to continue. She dropped everything and went around the table, to clutch his biceps and land her European style of kissing on both cheeks. She had to stand on tiptoe, making her feel breathless and paralysed with need.

He made her look up at him, which was no easy feat.

They were perfect together.

Why couldn't he realise it?

She stepped back, and Darcy spotted the compact suitcase she'd wheeled in behind her. It stood forlornly at the entrance of the kitchen, like it was lost.

"You came at such short notice." He looked back at her. "I didn't know if you would."

"I'm flattered you thought of me first."

"Well, Georgiana isn't going to be around, she made that clear. The little mare dared to threaten me with going to Europe, but she finally settled with our aunt's instead. I think it's a little rebellion because I've decided against her coming with me."

"Ah, yes." A crook appeared at the edge of her smile. "One of the perks of your job. Travelling the world. Where are you going this time?" _Who are you taking with you? It's certainly not Charles - he would've told me!_

"St. John's."

"The Caribbean?" A stab of jealousy plunged into her stomach.

"No," he laughed. "Singapore, of course!"

Caroline stewed over that for a while, still doing a mental inventory of all the bikini's she could've brought on the trip, if she'd been invited but never was. He was such a stickler for rules, only travelling with work colleagues, and sometimes occasionally - Georgiana. Wasn't there some cardinal rule, that hot, single men who traveled should be taking their girlfriends along, and engaging in fevered, steamy romps on sandy beaches somewhere?

She chased away that fantasy with a scowl. Then remembering she was still playing a part, forced a smile on her face that made her look ill.

"Of course," she faintly echoed.

"So," he said briskly, moving around the kitchen, pointing things out. "You will have the spare set of keys to let the housekeeper in, she only comes in twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. You don't have to worry about watering the plants, but if they start to look a little wilted, some wouldn't hurt. We'll pay you for the house-sitting, of course, because we're leaving several items behind, both of monetary and sentimental value, and it wouldn't do, if we were burgled in the week we were out. Here's my number for any emergencies -" He pointed at a post-it taped to the fridge. "Call me if anything happens, even if it's small-"

"Are you going alone?" Caroline interrupted, hating herself but gritting her teeth at the same time. She wanted to know if her burning suspicion was correct.

Darcy stopped short, blinking.

"Ah...no."

"You're going with...?" She prompted.

"Well," he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "My PA, obviously."

Caroline's insides started to wither and turn black and ugly. It was all she could do, not to curl her mouth into a sneer and ask, "_Her?" _Her disdain couldn't be masked. The initial dislike she had over Elizabeth, had now turned into a seething hatred. That _bitch _was trying to steal Will away from her! Caroline's fists clenched by her sides. What she wouldn't give, to rip the hair out of Elizabeth Bennet's head. First acting coy and refusing Darcy's advances like she was some virtuous saint, now using her vixen-like seductive powers to get him to agree with travelling together. God, _were they going to share the same bed?_

But she regained that smile once more, not wanting to show how venomous she was.

.

.

The next day, Elizabeth gingerly turned on her phone, cursing herself for throwing it behind the cistern, the day previous. There was now a spider length crack running along the edge of the screen, but mercifully it still worked. She hadn't even put it back down besides her oatmeal, before it started pinging her with all the messages she missed. Charlotte shot her an accusing look from the stove, frying some eggs sunny side up.

"Christ," Elizabeth said, scrolling through some of them. "He wants me to..._WHAT?"_

Then a second later, almost in panic, "No, no, no...this can't be happening."

"What's going on?" Charlotte asked nosily. "Anything to do with that stud you were sneaking in a couple of days ago?"

"Stud?" Elizabeth looked queasy. "Who says stud anymore? That expression is _so..."_

"Dated. Like me." Charlotte stuck out her tongue. "Don't you think I know that, already? Can't you see the white hair I'm sprouting?"

"He didn't..." Elizabeth suddenly began. "Turn up yesterday, right? Whilst I was out? Or he didn't ring our landline?"

"No..." Charlotte said slowly. "Did you give him our landline?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Well then... Oh, but I nearly forgot!" Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her chair when Charlotte exclaimed that. "We did receive that freaky caller again. You know, the one that rings up once a month, breathes heavily down the line not saying anything, and then hangs up?" Charlotte shook her head. "But that couldn't have been the stud you're talking about. You've only known this guy for a short while right? And we've been receiving those calls for _months. _Unless..." she broke off dramatically. "He's been stalking you all this time and now he's integrating into your life just to kill you!"

"Oh, shut up!" But her heart raced all the same.

Not because she genuinely believed Darcy was some sick, sadistic stalker-fuck but because Charlotte could never, ever guess who those calls were really from. And what they really meant.

Charlotte grumbled.

"So why the long face?"

"It's just that..." her fingers trembled. "He's closed the company. For a week. Because the newspapers got hold of a story..." Her eyes skimmed the next few lines, face paling. "And he thinks someone from inside has been talking. God, who would do that...? And Charles. He's staying behind to question _everyone. _But not Darcy. No, he's flying out to some island, and he wants me to go with him! Probably after interrogating me first, like Charles's doing with the others._" _She buried her face in her arms, like a distressed schoolchild having realised she'd just left her homework behind, and it was due for the strictest teacher yet. "_How could I have missed all this?"_

"There there," Charlotte said, from behind her frying pan, looking sympathetic.

"I have to say no," Elizabeth's voice was muffled. "It's too much of a short notice, especially since he wants to go tonight. Why is he asking this of me? _What does he want from me?"_

Charlotte scratched her chin.

It appeared the answers were beyond them.

They were disturbed from their respective stupors however, when someone pressed the doorbell. It was short. It was curt. And it promised to be interesting. Elizabeth and Charlotte exchanged high eyebrows, but it was the latter who was shooed to the hallway. She took a deep breath, before sliding back the lock and answering.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

"Before we start," he asked softly. "I need you to do one thing. Look me in the eye."

She looked him in the eyes.

"Have you ever met somebody by the name of George Wickham?" His eyes flicked from one eye to the other.

"G-George Wickham?"

"Answer me," he demanded.

"O-once or t-twice."

He rocked back on his heels and one of his nostrils flared. Elizabeth noticed he was clenching the same fist, which he'd curled when he wanted to punch Jonah. What did that mean? That he was preparing to release a blinder? She edged backwards, trying to appear not scared.

"Thank you," he muttered dangerously. "Thank you for telling me. Now can you invite me in? I'd much rather deal with this inside, then airing it out in the hallway."

"No," she blurted out, clearing her throat. "No, you can stay out there, thanks."

"Why?" One of his lips quirked. "Are you scared?"

"It wasn't me if that's what you're thinking!" Elizabeth winced at how shrill her voice sounded. But she was fighting for her life. She could already sense the loathing in his expression. Okay, he was hiding it expertly, but he wasn't smiling at her or talking to her like he usually did. In fact, he looked quite skeptical.

"What am I thinking?" He released his fist.

"You think it's me," she said breathlessly. "That I'm the one who's talked. To this George character. But it was nothing like that. He just bumped into me, probably for a story and I admit the first time I was pretty friendly, but Jonah hadn't done anything then, so I possibly couldn't have told - and the second time, I just accused him of being a vulture waiting to see our company go bust and he ran after me to give my bag back. That's it."

"That's it?" he repeated.

"That's it," she ended forcefully.

"So, it possibly couldn't have been you," he continued tonelessly.

"Why would I have any reason to lie?" She was still staring into his eyes, trying to read him. So frustrated was she in setting things straight, a flush had worked up her neck and she looked a little teary. Darcy wanted to believe her. She was a good little actress, if she was lying. And he was just a small fish caught in her reel.

But his heart fought him every step of the way.

It wanted to believe in her.

It wanted to believe so bad, he actually blurted out, "_I believe you."_

Her lips moved wordlessly.

"Y-You do?"

"I've dealt with him before. I know exactly what kind of methods he'd resort to." He looked grim. "You mentioned him retrieving a bag. Ample opportunity to slip something within, don't you think? Can you bring it out here? I want to see if my theory's correct."

She jerked her head in a half-nod, and went to retrieve her bag. She hadn't touched it since yesterday, and suddenly felt embarrassed at all the things that could be rolling around there. Didn't she have a half open pack of sanitary pads? And a clean set of underwear "just in case?" Refusing to meet his eyes, and sensing it was important she didn't tamper with the contents, she handed the bag over and watched with surly indignation, as he emptied it over the kitchen table. Because he'd followed her of course, and Charlotte had prevented him from shadowing her to her bedroom, by calling him aside.

Both women huddled either side of Darcy, as he picked up her underwear with a finger and a thumb.

"Nice," he commented.

Elizabeth snatched it out of his hands, and hid it behind her back.

"Wait, that wasn't there before." She'd just noticed a black object, shaped no bigger than a circular earphone, with a red light flashing intermittently. It had a clip on it's back. Black thunder crossed Darcy's face, as he picked it up and dropped it to the floor to grind it underfoot.

Then he pushed back his head and let out an almighty roar.

Elizabeth squeaked.

The noise caused him to slowly turn around and fix her with a fierce stare. "Never speak to him again, and in turn -" He strode forwards to grasp both of her hands, earnestly pulling her towards him. "I'll never ever fucking doubt you in the future. You have my word."

"Well, I don't want it!" She gasped, dangerously close to melting against him.

She didn't want to spend a week alone with him. In an exotic location.

Because it might make her lose her mind and cause her to start falling. Hard.

And that was a dangerous, dangerous path to entertain.

"This trip. I don't want to come unless you bring someone else." The words tumbled out of her, knowing she couldn't refuse work-related duty, but wanting to keep her head in the process. If someone else came along, she could keep herself in check, and not be whisked away by the allure of something more. Because at that moment...honestly...she kinda wanted it to happen.

What _it _was...she didn't quite know.

"That's ridiculous," he dismissed. "I've booked two rooms already. Where are we going to fit in this hypothetical third person?"

"You figure it out."

"I should just leave your arse back in England."

"Is it really necessary for me to come?"

"Well, you're the one who's actually going to be doing the work."

"Charming."

"You know..." He waved a hand. "Taking notes, jotting down particulars...little notes in the margin about places to eat, and handy tips to cope with no air-conditioning..."

"I'm sold," she said sarcastically. "But can you honestly tell me there's no-one else who desperately wants to take my place?"

"Well,there's Georgiana...she harangued me all night. Said she'd go to Europe with six guys if I didn't play ball."

"Brilliant! Take her!"

"I'll take the both of you," he snapped. "Happy?"

.

.

_Not happy._

Oh, Georgiana was all right. The moodiness she'd displayed all night and this morning was gone, to be replaced by an individual bursting with cheer. She'd come appropriately dressed, wearing a large floppy sun-hat, a skimpy summer dress with straps threatening to fall down her shoulders, and wedges that showed off her recently painted toenails. Booking another ticket, on a nearly full flight had been murder, but he'd forked out an extra grand, to nab her an empty seat in business class.

He and Elizabeth had to make do with the rest of the cattle.

Eyeing her grumpily, wondering why he bothered to treat her like a princess to his folly, he couldn't help looking at the other companion. Elizabeth was already fanning herself with the tickets, staring up at the departure board for their flight to _Changi _at 1911 hours. It would be a long flight, with a layover at Dubai.

This trip was purely business.

But why did it still bring a flutter inside his stomach?

.

.

**A/N: I've been reading too much these days. Sometimes I forget to write :P It would help if you can remind me...at times. If I don't update for over a week, just give me a little prod. I'll respond in kind. I think Tanya has the idea!**


	10. What Happens in St John's

Just before she boarded the flight, Elizabeth checked her email.

Or rather the email account linked to Lambton &amp; Co, being manned by her. It was one of the worst mistakes of her life. Alongside the influx of demands from the press, and several customers expressing concern about a site they used, now being blasted in the media - was a curious one sitting at the top. There was nothing in the title, except for an emoticon, and it was a round yellow face winking.

Elizabeth looked up at Darcy and Georgiana who were sitting opposite her in the boarding area, staring at nothing in particular. The way they sat, knees touching but their bodies angled away - so mirrored each other, it was actually kinda cute.

She gave a quick look round, at the remaining seats filling up, and glanced back at the phone again.

God, security had been a nightmare. She felt sympathy for her fellow passengers.

Finger wavering, she clicked on the emoticon, and waited for the email to load.

The first thing she noticed was a photo had been added in the thumbnail. She squinted at the sender, not recognizing the abbreviation, and read the two lines that sit primly underneath it. _So, you've found and destroyed my little souvenir. Time to give you another one._

And as she scrolled down, the photo from the thumbnail was enlarged in all it's technicolour glory. A young man wearing glasses was lounging in a chair, with a repulsive smirk and pierced eyebrow raised as he held up three, faded newspapers to the camera, whilst doing a _victory _sign with his other hand. She stared at his features hard, wondering why George Wickham would take such an obnoxious picture of himself and send it to her.

The answer became clear, when she saw the next few lines, placed for maximum impact, right under the picture.

_I had an interesting day at The National Archives today. My word, Liz! It took some digging, but it was totally worth it. Does Darcy know what type of person is parading as his secretary?_

Elizabeth gasped, reading on.

_I'm guessing he doesn't. Which is a shame, because I'll love to be there when he finds out. The look on his face...! In the meantime, my silence will come with a heavy price. Thing is...are you willing to pay up?_

And then there was another emoticon, holding up wads of cash.

The world as Elizabeth knew, tilted on it's axis. Just by a few degrees, but when she looked up, the slant remained. It was like two big invisible hands had scooped up the room they were in, and pitched it, so everything on one side of the room, had slid down to the other. Elizabeth got up, and she too, became part of the vision. She staggered sideways, throwing her arms out. Next thing she knew, Georgiana was shaking her, and Elizabeth realised nothing had moved at all. She had just been projecting the seismic shift within herself, onto her surroundings.

Straightening up, Elizabeth pulled down her shirt, and pushed her hair back from her face.

"Sorry," she grimaced, because her momentary stumbling had drawn quite a lot of attention. "Just something caught in my shoe."

"A bit early to get drunk, isn't it?" Someone sniffed, eyeing her like they'd personally witnessed Elizabeth downing the contents of a mini-bar themselves. Shame-faced, Elizabeth apologised to everyone who would listen, and returned to her seat with her handbag besides it. Lack of time, had forced her to keep her packing minimal and meager. But that wouldn't come round to bite her in the arse until later...

Darcy too, was up on his feet and wasted no time, gripping Elizabeth by her arm and leading her back to her chair, like she was a doddering old lady. He crouched in front of her, asking if she wanted water, or some medication he didn't know she needed, (and why didn't she tell him?) and being so unnecessarily attentive about it, she had to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him to stop. It was fine. _She was fine. _She'd just stood up too quickly, is all. The blood rush had been too much.

He tucked a hair behind her ear as he listened, rubbing her knee with his palm.

Again, she gently pushed it away, feeling acutely uncomfortable.

The last thing Elizabeth did before they entered the cabin, was to delete the email. It was such a small act of defiance, she didn't notice a person clearing their throat behind her a few times to stand aside, before she jolted back to the present. What George Wickham _thought _he knew, was confined to three newspapers worth. What Elizabeth knew, was a lifetime worth of memories.

.

.

_Blood..._

_So much blood..._

_Why wouldn't it come out of her hands?_

Her eyes popped open, and sweat clung to her forehead. Man, she hadn't dreamed _that_ for a while. Recent events had been getting to her. She turned her head, and the first thing she saw was the darkness outside the window, but astonishingly lights, like they were rolling down a landing strip with decreasing speed. People around them, were jumping up to their overhead cabins, cheering and clapping, glad to be on land once more, as the captain welcomed them to Singapore, and told them the local time. It was just before six AM.

Darcy who'd been awake during the first part of their interconnecting flight, had slept all the way through this one. He came round, cursing and rubbing his eyes.

"Are we here?"

"We're here."

"Bloody hell, I hope the the hired driver's waiting outside."

It took an hour to leave the airport, and to reconnect with Georgiana at the baggage conveyor belt, before they left as a group in the back of a taxi. Elizabeth propped her chin on her fist, and admired the airport's structure as they left. It was something out of science-fiction - a transparent dome-like structure interlaced with steel, that lay quite flat to the ground, and a solitary column that rose up, much like the _BT Tower _back home, cradling a golden oyster.

Well, it _looked _like a golden oyster.

And there were palm trees here!

"Changi Airport is much more aesthetically pleasing than Heathrow," Elizabeth remarked. "Do you think that's worth noting down?"

Darcy looked shell-shocked. That was the most she'd offered to the table, since jetting off nearly a day ago. Something about her was wrong. He could sense it. There was a tightness there, a glassiness to her look which he didn't appreciate. Whatever it was, she was reliving it in her mind, to the point he'd seen her nod off once in the plane, and start whimpering like a frightened girl. _"Don't..." _she'd said, "_Don't make me do it..."_

And then he had to take of his seat-belt and cradle her to stop the other passengers giving him dirty looks.

But fat chance, he'd tell her that.

"Can't we just stay on the mainland?" Georgiana whined. "I want to make the few days we stay here count, not driving around, trying to find some poxy island. There's nothing much to do there, except hike, snorkel and sunbathe - I've checked! At least on the mainland, we can have a wider choice_."_

_"_I thought the only reason you came here _was _to sunbathe." Darcy turned around from the passenger seat. "Didn't you pack an assortment of beachwear?"

"Yeah, and I look smoking hot in them!"

"Remember the deal, Georgiana," he said through gritted teeth. "I let you come on this trip, so you can in turn start paying attention in classes. When we head back, I want to hear you're the model student. So enjoy this while you can. It's the last bit of fun you're going to have on my watch. Not until you buckle down and begin improving your grades."

Georgiana growled.

"Whatever, _brother."_

"He's right, you know," Elizabeth said mildly. "Grades are important."

"What's this - an ambush?" Georgiana threw up her hands. "Did both of you plot this out beforehand? I _knew _it was weird when Will told me his PA asked me to come along...Because he wouldn't dream of asking before, no matter how I begged..."

"I'm glad you're here." She took hold of Georgiana's hand and gave it a small squeeze. After a second, it was tightly squeezed back.

.

.

They stopped at a seafood restaurant, and ordered squid, abalone and a rice dish. Darcy was trying to get a handle on his chopsticks, which was amusing to watch, when they noticed their driver sitting out in the car, perspiring, so they invited him in too. He started opening up to them a little, grateful for the offer, and said he was originally from Myanmar, here for the work, so he could feed his wife and kids back home.

The drive, when it resumed, was a couple of hours to the coast, where they had to run to catch the ferry.

It didn't look very promising. There was no-one else going to St. John's, except for the crew, and a gaggle of schoolchildren dressed in raincoats.

They soon out found out why.

The sea was choppy, and occasionally flung a flurry of droplets that had them shrieking and running for cover. Darcy laughed and took a couple of photo's. From the distant fog, a serene island started emerging, basic in it's principalities and covered in trees and fine sand. The ferry docked, and it was to their horror, they found out visitors could only stay, if they shared the same holiday camps.

It was nearing dusk when they were shown their living quarters. Guests were expected to be self-sufficient and prepare their own meals, or have them brought in from the mainland. It felt more like they were camping in a shack, than paradise. At least, the schoolchildren from earlier had been placed in a different chalet with their equally annoying teacher.

A small reprieve not to be sniffed at...

Which turned out to be their last.

They were using lamps to move around, and it was attracting a lot of night bloodsuckers. Georgiana disappeared to inspect the other bedroom Darcy had booked, and returned to announce it was inhabitable, due to a gaping crater in the roof. Which had thrown Elizabeth somewhat, because she'd envisioned the two of them bunking in there together...

"There's no other choice," Georgiana announced, throwing her hat on top of the king-sized bed. "We have to share this one. I'll be the sacrificial martyr and take the middle. Elizabeth, Will...you better be either side of me. Let's share the love, people!"

At the time, the idea had sounded brilliant.

They were all exhausted, so they pinched out their insect-attracting lamps and crawled onto the bed, to collapse on the covers. Elizabeth even slept soundly for a while. But that was before Georgiana started flailing her arms in panic, and one of them ended up hitting Elizabeth in the face.

A couple of seconds later, Georgiana sat up, gasping.

"Can't...breathe...too...stifled..."

Elizabeth remained with her head pressed against the covers, hoping Darcy would get up, and sort his sister out. But he appeared to be sleeping, his back turned to the pair of them, one arm curled under his head.

"Trapped... feel trapped..."

Elizabeth groaned, and half-pushed herself up.

"Hey," she might've said, "Sssh, don't get worked up. Wanna take my place? You can swing your legs out and leave anytime you want. It's great!"

If only she could remember what happened next.

.

.

Elizabeth woke, with a palm around her breast. Naked skin upon naked skin. It was the only way she could describe it. It was experimentally squeezing her, soft, and you'd have missed it. Now the question remained - was that the hallmark of a man unconscious or not? Had he deliberately set out for a boob grope, or had his hand accidentally landed up there, seeking for the softness it knew was within reach?

In the vivid dream she'd had as a prelude, Elizabeth had felt a hand lying on her hip - and she'd placed hers on top of it and guided it under her shirt, till it rested against her ribcage. There, the fingers fluttered and went still.

That had suited dream Elizabeth fine for just two minutes, before she was impatiently wriggling for more. She'd nudged the hand up - till it covered her breast, and remembered the thrilled gasp leaving her as it grasped of it's own accord. The clutch relented, and the heel of his palm cupped her fullness in it's cradle, whilst the other fingers shaped and caressed, it's thumb brushing against her nipple. And then twice more, if she thought it was an accident.

The stiff peak was being strummed into a nerve point of pain. Where it would need a good cooling lick for pleasure.

Elizabeth froze, noticing Georgiana was no longer in the bed with them.

What happened? Had she got up and left? Did she never come back? What if she was leaning over them right now? In response to Elizabeth's stiffness, the hand also froze, like it was caught up in the awareness of what it was doing. Well, this was awkward. She wanted to roll over and sucker punch him in the gut, but also had an awful feeling, the dream had been no mistake, and she'd been the one to lead him there, like Alice down the rabbit hole.

What if he wasn't awake?

Could she somehow sneak his hand out of her shirt, and pretend it never happened? Why _did _it happen? God, she had no shame. She had no morals -

She'd been holding her breath for too long. As Elizabeth's rib-cage expanded, the hand around her breast went lax, innocently, like it had no part to play in this. Elizabeth slowly grabbed his wrist and dragged it out from the warmth of her shirt. Then she slowly flipped over, to face the owner of said wrist.

Darcy was asleep. Or he was pretending to be asleep.

There was a small frown on his face, like he was disturbed by something. As if to prove a point, he shuddered and tucked the offending hand into his body, like he was repulsed by what it had to do. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, not noticing the moth-eaten curtains, or the garish flowery bedspread, or the damp walls but instead focusing on his face.

"Wake-up," she hissed meanly. "I know you're faking it."

"Which bit?" He drawled, still not opening his eyes.

"H-How could you!"

"You can't expect me to behave like a gentleman, when a lady rolls into my body, enough for my hand to naturally go around her hips, and then said lady, is dragging that hand up into her shirt like a sex-starved creature. What did you want me to do? Break my fingers trying to escape?"

"So the natural answer was to feel me up, was it?"

He solemnly met her gaze.

"Thank you for the privilege."

She looked angry. "I'm not like your other PA's. At what point, did I make it clear I didn't want to cross that line with you? How can you disrespect my wishes like that?"

"If you're that against me touching you," he scowled. "Why did you pull my hand into your shirt?"

"Because -"

"Because?" He raised an eyebrow.

Something in his pocket started vibrating. Not letting his eyes move from her face once, Darcy pulled out his phone, flicked a thumb to answer the call and pressed it against his ear. Momentary alarm crossed his face, before his features smoothed out, and he relaxed his head back on the pillow.

"Morning Caroline." His eyes were fixed. They stared into her own, like he couldn't look away.

"Oh, it's not morning where you are?" He chuckled.

"Yeah yeah, we got in fine-"

"What am I doing now?" Darcy's eyes swept Elizabeth from top to bottom. "Nothing much. Still in bed. Jet lag is kinda killing me."

"What I'm planning to do later? Oh, I've got a few things arranged."

"Is Charles there? Can I speak with him?"

All Elizabeth was hearing was his end of the conversation, but when the phone was clearly passed over to Charles, Darcy rolled to face the ceiling, then sat up and got out of bed, heading towards the balcony doors, which he slid behind him, to keep her from eavesdropping. This small act of privacy made tears grind in the back of her throat, but she didn't know why or where they were springing from. She'd thought bringing Georgiana along would save her from this. From getting into any compromising positions that might arise.

But yet it still happened...

Like she couldn't prevent it from happening.

Could the rule of _Whatever happens in St. John's, stays in St. John's _apply here?

.

.

**AN: Elizabeth's past plays a big part in the second half of the story. Do you have any theories? And yes - George is trying his level best to blackmail Elizabeth here. Watch his attempts increase throughout the story.**

**JRB - I write when inspiration strikes. Sometimes it's a stream of conscious thoughts portraying a certain level of urgency, and other times, it's a more relaxed affair. Accept both sides of me :P Because one cannot exist without the other, and I need to embrace both, to grow as a writer :)**


End file.
